THE CAROLINA CONNECTION Book 2 Part 2 - LIFE: GREECE
by Singing Silverwings
Summary: Gibbs' assignment without backup leads to grave danger for him. Molly has a desperate secret but she can't let Jethro know until he is able to handle it. Can he? Tony's team works hard to solve two related cases. Rated T out of an abundance of caution. Family/Drama/Humor/Hurt/Comfort/a little fluff. Complete! SEE MY PROFILE FOR STORY ORDER. R&R? TYVM!
1. Chapter 1

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 2 Part 2

LIFE: GREECE

Chapter 1

Molly got her test results then returned to the Naval Yard and sat in the sun on one of the benches thinking for a short time before going upstairs.

How was she going to tell Jethro about this? He had been under a _lot_ of stress since taking over the Director's job in addition to his own while Morrow was on this extended tour and now it had been further extended for another seven days so he could participate in an International Symposium at SecNav's request and make several other stops the higher-ups mandated "since he was in the area."

At home Jethro didn't say much about all he was doing but she could see the stress in his eyes and feel the great fatigue in his body. She had done everything within her power to make things easy for him and to keep everything upbeat.

On nights when he had to work late – which were far too many - she prepared a good hot dinner and took it to the office where the two of them could at least share a meal and give him a break from business for a little while.

When he came home, he could look forward to the best massage she could give after his shower during which he usually fell fast asleep. She would say nothing about this until everything settled down and he had time and strength to deal with it better. He sure didn't need it right now.

When Molly returned to the bullpen, Tony saw something hidden behind her bright smile but said nothing. She had requested a few hours off that morning to keep a medical appointment but had said nothing more than that. Now a bit of concern began to worm its way into his mind.

She distributed the coffee she had gotten for the three of them then opened another file at her desk. There was something in her eyes. Tony badly wanted to ask but decided that he'd more than likely get the "I'm fine!" response and be told to mind his own cotton-pickin' business.

The Supervisory Senior Team Leader returned to studying the list of names on the paper he was holding. Before he left, Director Morrow had asked Tony about adding a fourth member to his team. To be honest, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

He, Tim and MollyMac had a good thing going and nobody got along as well as the three of them did. If he attempted to add a fourth, that balance would be lost and it would take time for the fourth to adapt to them and for everything to shake down into place again.

Did he want to risk disrupting what he had now, something that may or may not return with another personality in the mix? It would be wrong to transfer an otherwise good agent off the team for no other reason than his/her personality didn't fit. He sighed and put the paper on his desk as he scrubbed his face with large hands. With every day that passed in this position he understood more about Gibbs.

There were twenty-seven MCRT teams around the world, some comprised of eight to ten NCIS experts in various fields, usually headed by a senior forensics expert. No way would he ever agree to have that many on his team. For the work done here, smaller is definitely better. He decided he'd simply keep his eyes open for a likely candidate and, until he saw that person, he'd maintain status quo.

Tim had gone down to the lab to get clarification on something concerning the cold case on which he was working. All three of them would readily admit that the addition of Dr. David Holland to the forensics staff was a _major_ plus and benefitted everyone, especially Abby. She seemed happy with the arrangement now, accepted that the lab was not her personal property and she and Dave seemed to get along well.

Tony wasn't sure that she had forgiven him for standing up to her back then but at least she was pleasant on the surface. With Molly she was merely civil - just barely. She still seemed to blame Gibbs' wife for taking 'her Silver Fox' away from her, as if Gibbs had had no say in the matter. It had been a simple matter of jealousy and loss of all her special privileges when Gibbs took his new position.

Gibbs' duties and responsibilities rarely took him into that part of the building anymore and she blamed that on Molly, too. If Gibbs hadn't married her, Abby reasoned that he'd still be MCRT leader and would therefore be a regular visitor to the lab. There is no way Molly would ever be exonerated in Abby's eyes. She simply could not accept that Gibbs had chosen Molly to be his wife and she was no longer "his favorite."

Molly remained polite and professional in their few contacts, but DiNozzo noticed that she worked with Dave whenever possible. Thankfully, Dave remained neutral, being cordial, friendly and helpful to everyone equally, wisely keeping all opinions to himself.

Green eyes turned back to the junior member of his team. She seemed a little pale, though she still smiled whenever their eyes happened to meet.

The Director's outer office door made a certain sound when opened or closed and whenever she heard it, Molly had always looked up, eagerly hoping to exchange a smile with her husband. But just now, when Gibbs left the office to enter MTAC, Molly's face was serious, her eyes shadowed by something as they followed him across the catwalk. Yeah, something was amiss, alright.

Tim returned from the lab and immediately immersed himself in whatever he was working on. For a long while, the quiet of the bullpen was broken only by the sound of fingers flying across keyboards. When Tony looked up again, Molly's face was absolutely white.

"Okay, MollyMac?"

"Yeah. Maybe - just a little under the weather. But I'm fine."

More and more the MCRT leader understood his predecessor's intense dislike of those words, though he himself was guilty of using it more than any other ten put together. He looked at his watch. Right at 1740.

"Tell you what. It's almost six so why don't you go ahead and take off. We'll see you in the morning."

Molly started to object but, aa _gh!_ she was feeling more and more nauseous. She hadn't taken time to fill the prescriptions written for her today, so maybe she'd better go home and take something. She didn't want anything worrying Jethro when he got home.

"Thanks, Tony. I think I'll take you up on it. 'Night, y'all." Even her voice sounded a little weak.

When she and Roger left, Tim asked quietly, "Something wrong?"

"Don't know. She didn't look all that good when she came back from her appointment. Hope she didn't get bad news."

"Me, too. She didn't say anything?"

"Besides 'I'm fine'? No, but something's up."

* * *

When they got home, Molly let Roger out into the fenced-in back yard, then refilled his food and water bowls. He loved running and playing with his ball or other toys, tossing his head to throw them, then racing over to get them again. Other times, he enjoyed just lying under one of the trees in the cool grass, sniffing the air.

Molly spied a small bottle of Diet Coke in the back of the refrigerator that was leftover from some gathering, so she opened it and took a big swallow. In times past, that particular brand cold drink always helped chase away the nausea or at least reduce it, as it did now.

When Roger came in, she lay on the couch to rest a bit before she called Jethro to see if he knew when he might be getting away tonight. She felt rather wiped out from emotional turmoil but she'd take some great homemade chicken salad to him with some other things if he had to stay late.

Within minutes her eyes closed and she was sound asleep. When she awoke, it was pitch black outside and Jethro was kneeling beside the couch looking at her with concerned eyes, his hands holding the sides of her face.

"Oh! Jethro! I'm so sorry! I was goin' to call and take supper to you – but I guess I fell asleep. I'm _really_ sorry! Let me up so I can fix it for you."

"You feelin' okay, Molly?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Gibbs noted the paleness of her face, though it was now brushed with a bit of pink. "How was your check-up?"

"Okay. Move so I can make your supper."

"No, you stay here. I'll get something."

He noticed the mostly empty bottle of Coke on the coffee table. "You drinking this now?"

"No. I felt a little nauseous earlier and that always helps. Glad we had one."

He felt the side of her face and her forehead. Didn't seem to be running fever. Well, these stomach things come and go.

She scooted past him and hurriedly prepared his food while he sipped on a fresh cup of his Colombian blend. "How was your day?"

"Busy," he sighed. "Be glad when Tom gets back. Maybe we can take that trip."

Molly sat with him at the table while he ate, but he noticed when she got up to get the open bottle drink from living room. "We got more of those?"

"No. I think this one was left over from the last cookout."

"I'll go get some in a minute."

"I'm okay, Jethro. You've worked hard and it's late. Get a hot shower and I'll give you a good massage."

When he finished eating, he took his dishes to the sink though Molly wrested them from his hands, "I'll wash them, you hard-headed man! Go get your shower."

Instead, the hard-headed man went to the neighborhood store and bought several six-packs of Diet Cokes. Then he got his shower. And massage. During which he fell asleep.

* * *

Before he left, Director Morrow ordered an office to be built for Gibbs. Going over construction plans with the building superintendant, space could be created out of the two storage rooms located next to MTAC, placing a door adjacent to the one for MTAC.

Morrow wanted it to be a surprise, but the surprise element pretty much went out the window when Gibbs inquired into the reason for lumber, sheetrock and other construction materials stacked in an adjacent hallway.

If that hadn't done it, the noise of deconstruction that occurred before the actual construction would have been a dead giveaway.

Anyhow, a worn-out Tom Morrow returned to the office the following morning and Gibbs was introduced to his new "surprise" office. It was actually very nice, with plenty of workspace, pleasant soft colors, good lighting. He liked it. Except for the elevator, he'd never had a private office before.

Even had his title and name on the door, about which DiNozzo took delight in ribbing him, addressing by him with the full title and name at every opportunity - Consultant and Special Assistant to the Director Senior Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS. Gibbs growled at him but he was unable to hide the pleased glint in his eyes.

Tony would always be Tony, no matter how much his behavior had changed since becoming Supervisory Senior Special Agent of the agency's number one MCRT. Noting every month that his former team's solve rate continued to slowly creep upward, Gibbs felt so much pride in them he thought he'd burst, despite his quiet offhand "Good job" to them as he passed through their section of the bullpen.

Tony, Tim and Molly gave him a gift for his new digs that was warmly welcomed by a genuine smile: a large capacity coffee machine with several bags of his own special Colombian blend to brew in it, along with a set of USMC mugs and something that no one even knew existed: a full USMC _tea set_. Ducky was thrilled!

The addition of several green plants in copper planters added the perfect touch to the space and Gibbs was thoroughly happy with it. He wished his dad could see it. How he missed the old man! He'd never get used to him not being there anymore.

* * *

Later that same day, Morrow called a tired Gibbs to his office. "Hate to do this to you, Gibbs, but we have a situation at the office in Athens. I need you to go over there and find out what the hell is going on. The Senior Agent there thinks an independent investigator is needed to get to the bottom of whatever is happening. Here's the routing of your transportation."

Gibbs took the paper and sighed. "Got a timeframe for the mission?"

"No. Do what has to be done, come back when it's finished. Call me beforehand and I'll set up return transportation."

"On it," Gibbs muttered as he left.

Leaving the Director's office, Gibbs paused on the catwalk as he looked down at his wife at her desk. Sensing his presence, she looked up with a smile as he slightly tipped his head toward his new office door.

"Tony, may I leave for a minute?"

Having heard the Director's outer door open, he didn't have to look to know that Gibbs had beckoned her to come upstairs. "Okay, MollyMac."

Closing the door behind him, Gibbs took Molly into his arms and just held her tightly for several long moments. "You still feeling alright?"

"Yeah. What's up?"

"Tom is sending me Athens for a while. Got a problem he wants me to fix."

" _Greece?_ " she tried to conceal her disappointment. "When – do you leave?"

"In the morning. Out of Dover."

Molly leaned in close to him resting her face against his broad chest as his arms tightened around her. "Just be careful, Jethro. That's a pretty treacherous place. You don't know how long you'll be gone?"

"Until I get the job done."

Forcing herself to make light of the situation, she raised her chin and said with as realistic a smile as she could manage, "Then it will be a very short trip."

"Hope so," he answered softly, his eyes troubled. "How 'bout I ask Tony or Tim to camp out at the house until I get back?"

"Now, Jethro. Don't you think I can take care of anything that could come up? And Roger would be insulted, you know. No need to disrupt their lives." She dug up a smile to hopefully put him at ease but he didn't seem to buy it.

Not smiling, Gibbs continued to hold her as he breathed in her ear, "Don't wanna leave you, Molly."

A light tingle brushed her skin that was touched by his breath. "Come back to me, Jethro. That's all I ask."

"Count on it. See you tonight."

Molly stepped back with a swallow. "I'll be waitin' for you."

When Molly left, Gibbs stood where he was for a moment. There was no way he could get out of this but the urge to stay with her was so strong it took deliberate effort to not go tell Morrow he couldn't go.

She was trying so hard to make it easy for him, not complaining, supporting him all the way, when he knew she felt the same way.

The love he had for her seemed to grow more every day. He would never have believed that he would find a woman for whom he would feel so much, so strongly. He had truly believed that he had buried that with Shannon so many years ago.

Molly wasn't Shannon, by any means; she was her own distinctive and unique self, but he saw so much resemblance in the two. Both had sharp intelligent minds, both loved him without limit but neither hesitated to stand up to him when they felt it necessary, earning his respect along with unlimited love from the very center of his heart. And he certainly didn't want to miss a minute of it now that he had found it again.

* * *

Molly returned to her desk, picked up Roger's leash and went outside. The cooler air helped the nausea that suddenly wanted to return. She went to the drink stand and bought a large cup of Diet Coke loaded with ice and two cups of coffee, then returned to her desk.

"Doin' alright, MollyMac?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Tony."

She withdrew her casefile from her desk, sighed and reopened it. Tony noted the cold drink on her desk. Wonder what was up with the Boss, other than maybe wanting a few minutes alone with her. Sure couldn't blame him for that but the glow she usually had after a moment or two with the Boss was missing from her face.

Later, after Tim and Molly had left for the evening, Gibbs stopped by the bullpen. "Got a minute, DiNozzo?"

"Sure, Boss. Whattaya need?"

His voice low, he said, "Gotta go to Greece. Mind keeping an eye on Molly for me? Don't think she's doing too well, but she won't say anything about it."

Green eyes serious, Gibbs' successor responded quietly, "You got it, Boss. You don't know what's wrong with her?"

The former Marine shook his head. "Says she's _'fine'._ Guess she'll tell me when she gets ready. She's drinking a lot of that diet cola stuff. Says it helps her. Make sure she doesn't run out."

"You got it. Tim and I will take care of her. I won't say 'don't worry' 'cause I know you will anyway. If something comes up, I'll call. You leaving in the morning?"

"Yeah."

* * *

That night, Gibbs confronted his wife. "Molly, I want you to talk to me. I need to know what's going on." His face was set in serious lines, his eyes demanded answers and his entire demeanor was one of The Boss berating a subordinate instead of a husband talking to his wife.

"Jethro, we'll talk when you get back. I promise. I was goin' to talk with you tonight but now that you have this mission, it'll wait until you get back."

His voice was raised and he was getting angry. " _No!_ I want to know _now_ _!"_ His hand slammed down on the table forcefully. "You're holding back on something and I have to know what it is!"

He had never talked to her this way before. Molly didn't want him angry with her, but she'd rather have that than for him to go on assignment with this other on his mind. She had no idea what his reaction would be but she was afraid for him.

As dominating and forceful as Gibbs could be, Molly could easily match him in sheer stubbornness. Speaking quietly but firmly in a voice that told him she wasn't going to put up with any nonsense, she said, "Jethro, we'll talk when you get back. You're goin' out into the field without backup. You have to keep your mind focused on that - nothing else."

Gibbs' face showed impatience, irritation, anger, frustration and fear. He silently considered her words for one brief instant.

"You mean like I'm not going to be worried about you _now?_ _Talk to me, Molly!"_ He voice was even louder, more strident and demanding; ice blue eyes were blazing. It infuriated him that he couldn't make her talk.

Molly wanted to turn away but his hands held her shoulders firmly, holding her captive before him. She flicked a single glance at those very strong hands then looked into his ever-expressive eyes, her own eyes slightly narrowed with a hint of a glint in them. "Jethro, we're not at the office where I have to follow your orders. Orders don't work here. I know the situation and _I_ know that _you_ do _not_ need to have this on your mind while you're out in the field."

Her voice softer she continued, "Jethro, I don't have cancer or anything like that, but this - is a very - complicated situation and – and is somethin' we'll have to face together, to make decisions together. You can't be thinkin' or worryin' about it when you're off on a mission. Now. I'm not sayin' a word more until you get back. I'm askin' you to trust me."

Those strong hands released her as troubled eyes studied her distressed but determined face, then his arms wrapped around her and held her tightly, pressing her close against him.

 _ _'Whatever this is, she believes she's protecting me. She'd rather carry this burden alone until we have time to discuss whatever it is without one of us having to rush off somewhere.'__

He sighed. His face melted into all the love he felt for her, though his eyes were still troubled. His voice was a low rumble in his chest. "Okay, Molly. I do trust you. May not always agree with you but I'll always trust you."

Burying his face in her hair, he murmured softly, "You do know I love you, don't you?"

"Yeah, I've 'bout figured that out."

* * *

~ Continued ~


	2. Chapter 2

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 2 Part 2

LIFE: GREECE

Chapter 2

Gibbs looked out the hotel window, his eyes sweeping across the ancient city under a cobalt blue sky. Athens was a beautiful place and apparently April was the perfect month to be here. Warm enough to be comfortable during the day, pleasantly cool at night.

He was troubled by the way he and Molly had parted. They had held each other, kissed earnestly, each had said 'I love you' and Molly had trouble keeping her tears at bay. But this – whatever it is – was still between them. _'..something we'll have to face together.'_ What could it be? At least he knew it wasn't cancer; he fully trusted her innate honesty.

It was the first time there had been a real 'disagreement' between them – and to be honest, he was terrified by whatever she was going to tell him. He simply could not survive losing her if some medical diagnosis indicated that was on the horizon in spite of what she told him. Thoughts of so many possibilities floated through his mind. But, as she said, they would get through it together.

The evening before, he was met at the Athens International Airport by Derrick James, Senior Special Agent in the Athens office, and he got the feeling that there was a problem of major proportions, if things were as James said.

There was growing distrust among the agents assigned here, unexplained little accidents that slowed them down and hampered attempted investigations. Something seemed to be designed to make this office irrelevant; a long string of small things. Harassment.

Athens was one of the oldest cities in the world and one of the most beautiful. But it was also a gateway to Europe and the West for drug traffickers smuggling cannabis and heroin from the Middle East and Southwest Asia. South American cocaine wound up in Greece through here, as well; Alvada had probably done a lot of business in this place. And all of it brought in major money laundering operations and organized crime was right in the middle of all of it.

There was a mountain of things to be investigated. Gibbs wondered how Morrow expected him to solve all this by himself. He really needed DiNozzo and McGee with him, but who would look out for Molly in his absence?

Balboa. He'd be a great backup. How about just DiNozzo? Get Burley a temp assignment to work with Tony's team if he's available. No, Burley was still at sea on his current assignment, he remembered.

The next morning, Agent James picked him up at the hotel just before seven. He was a pleasant man, around forty-five or a little more, he'd guess, though his face seemed to wear a perpetual expression of worry and stress. Getting a little soft around the middle, thinning reddish hair, wearing glasses over light brown eyes, James looked as if he'd age quickly.

He had set up temporary office space and equipment for Gibbs in the spacious NCIS office, introducing him to the agents on their arrival. Their personnel files waited on Gibbs' desk, but he'd wanted to meet each of them first. His gut would tell him the important stuff.

Jonathan Cartwright, mid-thirties, Texas native, divorced, no children, dark hair, brown eyes, firm handshake. Gut quiet.

John Abrams, early forties, New Yorker, widower, no children, salt-and-pepper hair, dark blue eyes, easy smile, good handshake. Gut quiet.

Ronnie Davis, early thirties, Georgia boy, single, light brown hair, blue eyes, _really_ white teeth in a flashy smile, too friendly, overly effusive. Gut twitched.

MariLee Gentry, late thirties, Colorado born, long blond hair, brown eyes, on the tallish side, slim, eye-catcher, coming on a little too strong for a first meeting in a business setting, handshake held a little too long. Gut noticed.

Senior Agent James asked if he wanted to address them but Gibbs shook his head and turned toward his office.

It was no secret why this guy from DC had been brought in: there were problems here and none of them wanted to wind up being the scapegoat. Nobody seemed to know how to take this tall silent man. Whether he knew it or not, he was a very intimidating person.

In his temporary office, door closed, Gibbs scanned through their files. All able agents, some better than others. Cartwright had one writeup for reporting for duty (still) drunk about the time his marriage broke up. Gibbs snorted; he could relate. No other negatives, plenty of positives both before and after. Solid agent. Seemed to have good instincts. Former Army Ranger with combat experience.

Abrams was a former Navy man. Solid record though not exceptional. Good reliable agent.

Gibbs took a little more time going through the files of Davis and Gentry. In contrast to Cartwright and Abrams who were offered positions here, the other two had requested their own transfers from their previous offices and accepted assignments here as the slots became available.

Neither had an outstanding record, but definitely more than adequate. Gibbs was trying to prevent his very high standards for an MCRT agent from affecting his judgment. The number of agents who actually made it to an MCRT was very, very low though it was no ill reflection on the majority who didn't.

Later that afternoon, he called Morrow, hoping he had calculated the time difference correctly. 1700 hours minus 7 = 1000 hours in DC.

"How are you doing, Gibbs?"

"Good, Tom. Got anybody who can break loose and come give me a hand?"

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. Gotta be checked out top to bottom."

"I'll see what I can do. DiNozzo's team is up to their ears, Balboa's and Daughtry's aren't much better. Anybody else you can think of?"

Without much hope, he asked, "Burley?

"At sea."

"What choices do I have to pick from?"

Morrow sighed. "Let me see check into that. You want one or two?"

"Start with one, see what happens. I can't trust anybody here and if I don't make it back in one piece, we'll both have to answer to Molly."

"In that case, I'm sending a division from Lejeune."

Gibbs responded to the Director's joke with a quiet chuckle. "Lemme know what you can do, Tom."

Okay, so he might have to do this by himself. _'Do watcha gotta do,'_ he sighed.

He called the former team leaders of all the agents here. The responses were about what he expected with the exception of Ronnie Davis. He received excellent recommendations from his last SA; solid agent, not too imaginative but good investigator. Apparently Davis' previous team leader just didn't get along with him, gave him a hard time. Neither team leader of Davis nor Gentry knew why transfers had been requested, though Gentry's commented that it could be just a simple matter of a ticking biological clock.

He had asked Agent James, "What sort of things have your people been working on over the last year?"

"Our connection here is primarily with the Navy base at Souda Bay in Crete - which is part of Greece. Many of the sailors come here for R&R or regular shore leave and the difficulties they run into are what would be expected: drunk and disorderly, drugs, fights, being robbed, trouble with girls – sometimes with the fathers or brothers of the girls, going UA – usually with or because of girls. Now and then one of them will wind up in the hospital, even in the morgue. We do the investigations of all of it, try to keep the peace with the locals and the government here."

"All of the cases resolved?"

"Yeah, mostly. But as you know, things have deteriorated in Greece a bit due to economic conditions. I simply cannot find a reason for whatever is going on. Sometimes it appears as if something is done to harm another agent, sometimes not. I've never seen anything that would even remotely hint that one of these agents would do anything to harm a fellow agent. They may not be best buddies, but they respect their work and each other. You can see it in their interactions. Maybe you can unravel this mess. We're going to become irrelevant unless we can find out what's going on."

Gibbs had asked the agents, one by one, to come to his office where he talked with them, asking their thoughts, their opinions about their jobs, NCIS in general, the other agents, Greece and about their cases. Surprisingly, some of the more insightful responses he got came from Agent Davis. Gibbs wondered if Davis was a DiNozzo-type, hiding himself behind masks. The man sitting before him right now was open, forthright, succinct in comments, speaking honestly, not the same Davis to whom he had first been introduced.

At the end of the day, he had no more answers than he had at the beginning. He caught a ride back to the hotel with Cartwright who lived nearby and who had volunteered to give him a ride to and from every day. Gibbs decided that the first thing he wanted right now was a good cold beer. He made himself comfortable in a rather plush chair at a small table in a back corner of the hotel bar.

The cold brew seemed to reinvigorate his brain cells as he sat thinking, jotting down a few things he wanted to check into the next day. _What_ had been the trigger that set off these series of incidences? It didn't start without reason. Finding the answer to that would be the key to solving this mystery.

A beer or two later, he looked up to see a smiling MariLee Gentry standing beside his table.

"Saw you here, thought you might like some company."

"Still working."

"Drinking is work?" she teased.

"Nope, but thinking and making notes is." Gibbs' face was neutral, but he decided this might be a good time to find out more about Gentry.

"Sit."

"Thanks! That beer looks good." Gibbs caught the eye of the bartender and raised his bottle, then tipped his head toward the other agent.

Beer delivered, Gentry took a long pull at the bottle, then sighed. "Nothing like a cold one after work."

Gibbs said nothing as his eyes took in every nuance of her expressions and motions.

"So, what do you do after work back in DC?"

"Go home to my wife."

"Oh, that can't be much fun."

One look at Gibbs' hard face and icy eyes told her she had just stepped in it big time.

"Unless that's where you _want_ to be," she quickly added. "I never had the luck to find a guy who just wanted to be with me, except for some things, that is." She sighed. "Thought I'd try new scenery, see if things would change. Seems it hasn't."

"Bars aren't good hunting grounds - no matter where they're located."

Gentry tipped her head once to the side, then responded with a wistful sigh, "Could be right. Well, guess you want to get back to work. Thanks for the beer." She got up and left.

Gibbs considered reasons why she may have come. Looking for an evening's entertainment? Chase away loneliness? To find out what he's investigating? He'd keep an eye out for further clues.

He looked at his watch. 2030 hours here made it ... 1330 in DC. He rang Molly's phone but it went to voicemail. No telling where she was; he left a short message and hung up. As he thought of her his face softened, then sobered as he thought of whatever could be affecting her health. She had left her purse open on the table and he had seen several prescriptions in it that she hadn't filled.

 _'_ _Oh, Molly-girl, what's going on?'_ It was hard to not get on an airplane and get back home as fast as he could.

She had been remarkably healthy since she had recovered from that horrific beating and shooting several years before. Aside from periodic aches or pains that severe beatings, broken bones and gunshot wounds bring. She rarely said anything about them, but he could tell by the dropping level in the aspirin bottle that they bothered her more than she ever let on. She and DiNozzo!

Somehow he never considered himself as easily fitting into that very same boat.

The next day Gibbs quizzed each agent about cases they'd had in the last year. Nothing remarkable stood out. Then he asked Agent James about cases on Crete. "Everything is closed except one. Sailor found dead, strangled, no known motive, no evidence found, nothing that pointed anywhere."

"Who worked on it?"

"Abrams and Davis."

Gibbs nodded, then called those two agents in. Neither could shed any light on the murder, either.

The two explained the way things worked on that island, especially in the mountains. Every village has two or three men who are highly respected, known to be just and honest, who serve as local peacemakers - mediators - called _mesitis._

For centuries these men have strived to reconcile parties in disagreement before they could resort to violence, making every effort to maintain peace.

These honorable men weigh every word they speak with great care, so that no one can take offence, maintaining neutrality, and are brought in on everything from a fist fight, a kid squabble, an animal trespassing, a misunderstanding – anything that could escalate to violence without their intervention in settling the disagreement to the satisfaction of all concerned.

Murder is the only thing they cannot try to reconcile. Those must go through a court of law, though mediators are often asked their thoughts and opinions.

"What about the base itself?"

Abrams responded, "Not all that big. Probably around five hundred people stationed there but most of those are American and Greek contractors who provide various services. The population increases according what size ship is in port or how many ships are in at the same time."

Dennis added, "Actually it's a pretty quiet place. Ships' personnel do most of whatever needs to be done to a ship while in port, but sailors with shore leave usually head to Athens. More action."

"Any personal thoughts on the dead sailor?"

Dennis answered, "Lots, but no evidence to show for any of them."

"Who does the autopsies here?"

"Navy contracts with a local group here in Athens. Remains are flown back to the US on military craft out of the International Airport just outside the city."

"These things that have been happening around here, what was the trigger for them?"

Both agents sighed and thought. Dennis honestly responded in his Georgia drawl, "I don't have a clue, Agent Gibbs. Too many things goin' on at once, none of them seemin' to have any connection."

At Gibbs' raised brow, Abrams told him, "I have to agree. I'd be surprised if it was anything connected with any agent here. It just doesn't make sense."

"How do sailors get back and forth to Athens?"

Abrams answered, "There's an International Airport at Chania on Crete. Tickets are cheap – only about twenty-some bucks each way. Something like a thirty-five, forty minute flight."

Gibbs nodded and dismissed the agents. Calling James, he asked, "Which airline do I use to Crete and back?"

"You don't. Souda Bay will send a chopper for you."

Gibs' brows nearly met in the middle. __"Why?"__

"You are the _Consultant and_ _Special Assistant to the Director of NCIS_. That means VIP. Trust me, they don't want you mingling with the masses. When do you want to go? I'll set it up."

"Tomorrow morning about seven or so?"

"Done. Anything else, Agent Gibbs?"

"Yeah. I'm _not_ a VIP. I retired from my MCRT position and was offered this job just to give Tom a hand. That does __not__ make __me __ special."

James grinned. "Whatever you say, sir."

"...and don't call me sir!"

* * *

That evening when he returned to the hotel, he stopped by the bar as had become his practice. Retreating to his favorite chair, he made notes, studied notes on certain cases as he prepared for the trip to Crete.

When the bartender brought a fresh beer, Gibbs asked him, "You ever been to Crete?"

"Oh, yes! Have much _good_ time!"

"Doing what?"

"Swim. Ride in the boat. Watch girls in tiny suits for swim. Good food. Drinks. You go?"

"Yeah. Whattaya know about the _mesitis_ there?"

"Mesitis there many - uh - much time – uh, _long_ , long time. Do good."

"Think one of 'em would talk to me?"

The bartender's smile beamed. "Only must ask. Good people!"

"Thanks."

* * *

The next morning, Special Agent Jonathan Cartwright stopped by the hotel to take Gibbs to the US Embassy where a helicopter was to pick him up and take him to Crete. Use of the Embassy's helipad was standard procedure.

Agent Gibbs, who was always waiting for him out front, was nowhere in sight. Cartwright pulled into an empty spot near the front entrance, glanced around the lobby as he entered, then went to the bank of house phones on one wall. Phone rang, no answer.

A frown settled into place on his face as his gut gripped. At the front desk, he showed his badge and creds as he informed one of the clerks on duty that he had to gain entry into room 216 immediately. The assistant manager followed the agent into an elevator to the second floor and rapped sharply on the door.

Cartwright ordered him, "Open it!"

Senior Supervisory Special Agent Gibbs sat slumped in an armchair beside a small round table. Rushing over to him, checking for a pulse, the agent pointed to the man who had let him in, ordering him, "House doctor. _NOW!"_

Wide-eyed, the man scurried to the phone and spoke rapidly. Very soon afterward, a tall, bespectacled man hurried in and began an immediate, cursory examination of the unconscious man in the chair. Cartwright had found only a weak but rapid pulse when he had checked.

While the doctor did his thing, the agent called the office quickly notifying SSA James of events and that he was taking Gibbs immediately to the Embassy to be flown to the base hospital at Souda Bay. The Navy maintained a smallish but fully capable facility staffed by highly qualified doctors and nurses.

The helicopter ride to Crete was fast, almost at max power all the way. The hospital staff was ready for them, waiting with a gurney by the base helipad.

In the hospital, doctors swarmed around the unmoving agent, ordering tests, IVs and other things Cartwright didn't catch. Standing out of the way, he watched intently. At least their activity indicated that the Director's Special Assistant was still alive.

He considered calling the Director but decided to wait until he had some news of Gibbs' condition before doing so.

Time passed sluggishly before one of the Navy doctors approached him at last, still peeling off his gloves. "You're here with this man?"

"Yes. Special Agent Jonathan Cartwright, NCIS."

Shaking hands with the agent, the doctor said, "Commander Tom Rogers. What can you tell me about him?"

"He was sent to Athens to investigate some problems by the agency Director. He's been here three days, this is the fourth morning. Other than that, I have no information."

"Where was he staying?"

"Intercontinental."

The Navy Commander sighed. "Need to know more. You got a number in DC?"

"Yes. I was goin' to call the Director when I had news of his condition. How is he?"

"He's still with us. Besides fluids and antidotes, I've got him on things to give him a boost right now until I get more lab results back. Don't think he was drugged, wasn't drunk, symptoms indicate possible poisoning but how or what, I simply can't say right now. May be a few hours before we get the rest of the lab work back, but at least he's stable for now. It would be helpful if you could make your call now and have his medical records sent here. There may be something there that will help us out."

"On it. Do you want to speak to Director Morrow? He might appreciate hearin' from you rather than me for the medical side of things."

"I need to get back to the patient. Just tell the Director what I told you for now. I'll talk to him later."

"Got it."

Cartwright wasn't looking forward to making this call but at least it wasn't the middle of the night in DC. Greece was seven hours ahead of DC. 1400 hours here meant it was 0700 in Washington. They were probably just getting into the office.

The switchboard operator forwarded the call straight to the Director due to the 'Emergency' tag the agent had put on it.

"Morrow."

"Director, I'm Special Agent Jon Cartwright from the Athens office. Special Agent Gibbs has been taken ill and I've had him flown to the Naval hospital at Souda Bay." He reported all that had occurred and the doctor's initial assessment. "He'd appreciate havin' Agent Gibbs' medical records forwarded ASAP."

Morrow's sigh was clearly audible. "I'll - have that done immediately, Agent Cartwright. When can we expect further information?"

"The Commander is waiting on lab results, sir. Says that will tell him more but it will be a few hours. As soon as I know anything, I'll update you, sir, or someone else, if you prefer."

"No. Call me direct, regardless of the hour. Is Gibbs secure where he is?"

"As far as I know, sir. The hospital is on the base and staffed by Navy and Marine personnel. Support services, I can't address but will find out. Anything in particular you'd like for me to do, sir?"

"Just stay by my man and make certain that he's safe. I'll contact the base commander and get the other info. Thanks for calling, Cartwright. My secretary will give you my numbers."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

One of the nurses showed the agent where the staff room was, telling him to feel free to use it as much as he wanted.

Thanking her, he stayed for several minutes, pouring a welcome cup of coffee and and getting a danish. That few minutes allowed him to process everything before calling SSA James and bringing him up to speed.

* * *

It was times like this when Director Morrow, Gibbs' boss, became Tom Morrow, Gibbs' friend. Oh, lord. What was he going to say to Molly? She'd be on the first anything to Greece. He knew better than to even try to prevent her.

He reluctantly reached for his phone and dialed an inhouse number to Autopsy, then one more to the bullpen.

"DiNozzo."

"I need your team in my office now. First, I want to ask you about Molly. She's okay?"

"Sort of."

"Okay. Come on up."

Tony sat for another moment, knowing the news wasn't going to be good. He looked at Molly, booting up her computer, getting ready for another day. McGee's green eyes were looking at him, his expression neutral. Somehow the look they exchanged told the SFA that something major was wrong and he started getting to his feet.

Standing, Tony ordered quietly, "With me."

Molly looked up, then quickly shoved her file in a lockable drawer and followed her teammates up the stairs, Roger at her heels. Only a moment later, they were joined by the Medical Examiner in the Director's office.

Morrow waved them to the conference table. "Have a seat."

Paulette returned quickly with several mugs of fresh coffee, a cup of tea and condiments.

Looking at the four pairs of eyes watching his face intently and apprehensively, he decided that he'd may as well just get it out there.

Looking mainly at Molly, he said, "Just got a call from Crete. Gibbs is in the hospital at Souda Bay from what sounds like, at this early point, to be poisoning. They're waiting for lab results that will tell them more."

"At the Navy doctor's request, I have forwarded a copy of his medical records. The agent who found Gibbs this morning is standing guard but since they are not in Athens where it occurred and are on a Navy base on Crete, I don't think security is a problem."

"I'm arranging transportation to take all of you to Crete. Dr. Mallard, if you are needed here, you are excused from the trip but I wanted to give you the option."

The revered Medical Examiner stood and drew himself up to his full five-foot-seven-inch height and declared, "Mr. Palmer is quite capable but I'll arrange for someone to fill in for me. I _will_ be going, Director! Thank you."

Tony and Tim had immediately looked at Molly when the news was broken. Her face was very pale with the exception of two bright pink splotches on her cheeks. Posture rigid, chin firmly and stubbornly in the air, there was no question about her going or staying. She'd go even if she had to fly her little airplane there herself. Tim had reached over and took her hand; he was sure there would be permanent damage so tight was her grip.

Briefed with what the Director knew, they were ordered to be at Reagan National airport in time for a 10 a.m. wheels up.

The three went their separate ways to pack and make necessary personal arrangements. Molly left Roger with Mr. Jenkins, though she was tempted to take him with her. The big shepherd was her rock when she really needed it.

They met at the designated place in time to see a big sleek Gulfstream 650 jet in Navy livery land and taxi to the military hardstand and terminal at the eastern end of the airport. Much to their surprise, SecNav was sending them in his jet. It sure beat being pounded around in the backend of a military transport on a miserable canvas seat for umpteen unbearable hours as they had expected.

This Gulfstream carried a Navy/Marine crew of four comprised of two pilots, a relief pilot and one cabin attendant.

The team was welcomed by Marine Corporal Danielle Jarman who would look after them during flight. Cpl. Jarman looked impossibly young but her carriage and conduct spoke of her training and experience; she was a Marine through and through. She pointed out the restroom, a surprisingly well equipped and stocked galley where they had their choices of a variety of beverages and food; they only had to ask.

The crew knew that this was an emergency flight and understood when the group was quiet, their faces strained, as they settled themselves into white leather seats. Molly figured the distance from here to Crete was about six thousand miles. That equaled close to ten hours in flight. This model jet cruised at something over six hundred miles per hour, one of the fastest private jets in the world, but even that was much too slow for _this_ flight.

Molly did the confusing math in her head: wheels up at 10 a.m. local time was 5 p.m. in Crete, so a ten-hour flight gave them an estimated arrival time in Crete of 3 a.m. the next morning, depending on winds aloft.

The sixteen seats in the luxurious jet were big and comfortable, and reclined in multiple degrees like home recliners. Four of them were face-to-face separated by a gleaming walnut table. In another place two faced together with a smaller table between them. Large flat screen TVs were mounted on walls here and there. Everything including internet and phone service was available. Under different circumstances, this would be a very enjoyable flight.

Molly selected one of the forward seats that was somewhat separated from the others in the long, wide cabin. She needed to be alone, at least for now. Her mind was multi-tasking at top speed, praying, wondering, hoping, concentrating on holding herself together. She just had to hang on until she got there.

Ducky, a little pale himself, was keeping an eye on the people who were so dear to him. He too was very concerned about Jethro. There are so many poisons that can do terrible damage to a person. Like the others, he'd just have to wait. He was grateful that the Director had given him the opportunity to be here. Jordan Hampton was happy to fill in for him and he knew that Mr. Palmer was comfortable working with her.

Flying high above the earth at 41,000 feet, the cabin was very, very quiet. The noise of the rear-mounted engines blasted well behind them, making it feel as if they were simply rocketing through the sky in near silence.

When Cpl. Jarman offered food and beverages, Molly accepted a fresh turkey sandwich and a cup of coffee. She had discovered that a little food made her stomach easier to manage than if it was completely empty.

Somewhere along the way, Tony walked forward to her seat and knelt beside it slipping an arm behind her in a semi-hug. "How ya doing, MollyMac?"

"Okay, Tony."

Tony just nodded. He had had a quiet talk with Ducky earlier and after learning the possibilities, he wasn't going to discourage her hopes but wondered if she shouldn't be somewhat prepared for what they may find. "You want to talk with Ducky?"

Molly was afraid of what he might tell her; she didn't want to know. If she didn't know about it, she couldn't worry about it. "No. Maybe later. After we get there."

"Okay. Let me know if you want me for anything. Promise?"

The stress and tension of holding herself together making her throat ache painfully, she whispered, "Thank you, Tony." She squeezed his hand as he withdrew it and quietly left.

Tim was locked up in himself, too. He messed with things on his laptop, sometimes just looked at the lights on the earth nearly eight miles below them after they had streaked westward through the sky and enough time zones that the sky had darkened.

* * *

~ Continued ~


	3. Chapter 3

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 2 Part 2

LIFE: GREECE

Chapter 3

The big jet touched down gently at the International Airport at Chania and rolled smoothly off the runway, taxiing to the US Navy hardstand and terminal.

Guided into its parking area by a flightline crewman, the jet's forward passenger door opened to the cool nighttime air of the island. With quiet words of thanks, the passengers deplaned into the waiting Navy van that would take them to the base not far away.

At the base, the van drove directly to the hospital facility where the deputy base commander waited to greet them. More hands had to be shaken inside, break rooms identified for them, phone numbers given with instructions to call anytime one of them could be of assistance.

Then, at last, Molly entered the quiet room where Jethro lay unmoving. Lines, tubes, bags, machines, clicks, beeps and gurgles.

She softly walked to his side and took one big calloused hand in hers as she looked into his pale face. He looked worn, tired. His face was freshly shaven thanks to one of the staff.

It was hard to see her strong, vital husband reduced to this state but if that's all she could have, she'd take it.

Commander Rogers, Gibbs' doctor, entered the room, introducing himself to the others, then gently approached Molly whose eyes had never left Jethro's face.

"Mrs. Gibbs? I'm Tom Rogers. If you'd like I can give you all the information I have thus far."

Molly's brown eyes slowly made their way to the doctor's face. "Thank you," she whispered, allowing herself to be guided away from Jethro's bedside for a moment.

"It appears that your husband was poisoned by a fumigant sometimes used in the more rural areas of Greece. Poorer farmers use it, even though it is officially banned, because they can't afford the approved fumigants."

"Thanks to Agent Cartwright's quick actions, we were able to begin treatment relatively quickly and I have high hopes that he'll make a good recovery. There are some areas of concern for which we'll simply have to wait for answers until he is fully out of the coma."

"As you see, he's resting comfortably and all vital signs, as well as others, are being constantly monitored. For the time being, we'll continue monitoring and observing. The human body can quite effectively protect itself in many cases by shutting down all but the most important areas to give itself a chance to heal itself."

"That is why, at the moment, we're primarily supporting his body in allowing that natural healing to take place, with the addition of antidotes for the known poisons he breathed. As time passes, there are other measures we can take to boost that effort and to continue providing him with everything he needs in order to recover."

Molly and the others were quiet as they listened. Ducky asked, "Do you know the class of poisons, Doctor?"

Rogers hesitated before he answered, "Lab results indicate it was in the Hydrogen Cyanide family of fumigants."

Molly watched Ducky's eyes as he received the information. Though he veiled it quickly, she saw fear in his alert blue eyes.

She addressed Dr. Rogers, "Explain the meaning of that, please." Her voice was quiet but very firm.

"Well, that classification can cause damage to the brain and heart. Those - are some of the answers for which we'll have to wait to know until his return to consciousness. However, the scans and tests we've been able to run indicate no drop in function in either area. But we'll keep our fingers crossed that we'll receive only good news as time passes. Do you have any other questions?"

Molly slowly shook her head and she returned to the beside of the man she loved so dearly and held his hand in hers.

Voices murmured in the background and there was movement but her attention was on her husband. She turned only when Tony's hand touched her shoulder. "We're being put up in the Bachelor Officers Quarters close by. We need to go check in. Come get a good shower, we'll get something to eat then come back here, okay?"

"I'll stay here."

"Can't, MollyMac. Staff is waiting to take Gibbs for more tests and it'll be a while. Let's take advantage of this time so we'll be ready to be here when he returns."

Normally soft brown eyes showed storm clouds as a furrow appeared between her neat brows. Ducky joined them. "Come, my dear. They're waiting for us to leave to they can take Jethro. Perhaps we'll have more news when they return."

Seeing several people in white uniforms waiting in the hallway, Molly finally relented albeit most reluctantly. She made up her mind that when she returned, she was going to be fully prepared to stand her ground, accepting no excuses.

* * *

The rooms provided for them were clean, comfortable and quite adequate, but being military and for military personnel, there were few amenities other than a TV.

Tony was really worried about Gibbs. He looked even worse than he had expected. The short briefing Ducky had given him on the flight had been frightening in itself but now that he was face-to-face with it, it was terrifying. What if Gibbs had suffered either heart or brain damage? He would be miserable if he was left an invalid after this.

How would Molly handle it? She was a great deal tougher than she appeared and he knew she would be at Gibbs' side whatever the result would be. What if she had to leave the team? NCIS? She would regard it as just something that had to be done and would do it instantly if she was needed to care for her husband. She would always place him before anything else. He hoped he would find somebody like her to love him like that. He wouldn't have a choice but to add another agent to the team if she left.

He sighed. It was only a little before five a.m. and the mess hall would be open now. A quick call to each of the others and it was agreed that they would go have a hot meal at six before going back to the hospital and beginning their own investigation into what had been done, how, why and by whom.

Molly wasn't enthusiastic about eating before returning to Jethro's bedside, but knew her stomach was more likely to behave if it had something in it.

DiNozzo had to smile when he saw her when she exited her room. Dark jeans, blue-white-and-green plaid short-sleeved shirt, hair pulled up in that high ponytail, sidearm on her hip, badge clipped to her belt, sunglasses on the top of her head. She looked as if she was ready to take on anybody or anything. It would be very wise to avoid crossing her.

Tim had spent some time in his room with his computer searching for information on the fumigant poisons Dr. Rogers had enumerated and was disheartened by what he read. This wasn't looking good. As much as he wanted Gibbs to open his eyes he also dreaded it for what it may reveal.

Dr. Mallard took some of the brief time they had in their rooms just to decompress in private, away from the others. Each of them looked to him for guidance and reassurance and he couldn't let them down. A bit later, having showered and refreshed himself, he dressed in his usual dapper clothing and joined the others for breakfast. As soon as they had gone through the line, gotten their food and settled at a table, he launched into a story of his childhood in Scotland.

Each of the agents was grateful that he filled the silence with his tale because none of them felt like talking. Molly had selected eggs, bacon and cut fresh fruit. She prayed that her stomach would accept it and entertain itself with its digestion and not get into a tizzy over something.

As Ducky talked, he took note of each one of the 'youngsters' in his care. All were highly stressed which was to be expected but each seemed to be processing everything in his and her own way, though Molly's face stayed paler than it should be and she didn't speak unless asked a question.

Tony had told Ducky the little he knew of whatever her condition was though the ME had not yet confronted her with a request for more information. It was indeed her personal business but if she had problems, he had to know what he was dealing with in order to treat her. He decided that the question could wait a bit longer. She was dealing with about all she could handle right now.

Tim seemed to have retreated into his own world. The ME thought that his world was probably much more pleasant than this real one. He wouldn't push any of them but would continue to observe them closely.

* * *

Molly caught quite a few eyes as she strode purposefully through the hallways to Gibbs' room. She might be small and petite, but she was obviously quite at ease with that badge on her belt and the weapon holstered on her right hip; her demeanor was one of 'don't mess with me'.

She entered her husband's room and approached his bedside quietly. He appeared exactly as he had when she left. She clasped his unmoving hand in both of hers before seating herself in the chair, then gently kissed the back of the big hand.

Agent Cartwright wasn't around and she wanted to thank him for his quick actions. As the senior agent present, Tony authorized a room in the BOQ where the agent could at last get some sleep. He had stayed on duty around the clock until they arrived and was about to collapse. A phone call resulted in someone going to his apartment in Athens and sending him clothing by the next available flight.

When Ducky arrived, he went straight to the patient chart and began reading. After a moment, Molly asked very softly, "What does it say, Ducky?"

"It says that he has stabilized and all organs seem to be functioning well, if a little sluggishly, which, I suppose, is to be expected under the circumstances."

"That's it?"

"I'm afraid so, wee lassie. Perhaps Dr. Rogers will be around shortly to update us and the chart. That everything seems to be working is an excellent sign."

Molly sighed quietly and resumed her vigil at Gibbs' bedside. _'What about his heart? His brain? Surely all these tests and scans tell them more.'_

When Jon Cartwright reappeared after getting some sleep, a shower and fresh clothing, Molly sat beside him in Gibbs' room. After thanking him, she questioned him on the events in Athens and why Jethro had planned to come to Crete.

After listening to his responses, she asked him about what had been happening in the office in Athens and when each occurred. These answers were less certain than his previous answers.

"It's almost as if someone is subtly trying to sabotage us, slow us down, hinder cases. Tires will suddenly go flat. Agency cars will have hosts of mechanical problems. Files will go missing. Once the office was flooded after the fire sprinklers went off but there was no fire; ruined a lot of electronic equipment and records. We simply can't figure out the who or why, much less the how. I don't think it is just one person but not everyone shares that opinion."

"Can you get me copies of files on the murdered sailor? Seems that everything began roughly around or just after that time. I'd like to study them if you don't mind."

"Abrams and Davis worked that one. I'll have them to send an efile to you, Agent MacKenzie."

"Thanks. I appreciate it. Call me Molly - or Mac. Either one works," she smiled.

"Thanks, Mac. I'm Jonathan - or Jon. Don't have any other nickname."

"Tony will take care of that one for you. Just give him a little time." Cartwright was easy to be around. His Texas drawl and steady ways gave him a relaxed, confident demeanor.

When the files arrived in her email, she passed the hours beside Gibbs' bed studying them, searching for anything the other two agents may have overlooked. She knew there was something because it was niggling around the periphery of her mind but she couldn't break it loose just yet.

The investigation into the poisoning in one of the premier hotels in Athens was going nowhere by those in the Athens office. The closest anyone could determine was that someone had probably slipped into the hotel in the early hours of the morning and had sprayed the fumigant into Gibbs' room by means of the very small crack beneath the room door.

Evidence indicated that Gibbs had awakened, showered and dressed, then had a cup of coffee seated at the room's small round table where Cartwright had found him shortly afterward. Had the fumigant been sprayed earlier in the night hours, Gibbs likely would have succumbed to the poison before anyone found him.

The more Molly studied the files, the more it seemed that whoever was doing all this wanted to accomplish his/her goal not in one fell swoop but a little at a time. The attempt on Gibbs' life was the largest single step yet. Are the ones responsible escalating their efforts?

Again she returned to the files on Michael Simmons, the murdered sailor. Her gut instinct told her that he was the link but if the investigation by Abrams and Davis was to be believed there were no clues to be found.

Molly left her place beside her husband's bed only if someone dragged her away to eat. She caught short naps here and there as her head rested on the edge of his bed but Ducky was beginning to make noises about her need for proper rest. So far she had dodged the issue but she knew that when he finally put his foot down, there would be no escape until his bidding was done to his satisfaction. He could be worse than Gibbs when he put his mind to it. Nobody ever wanted to cross Ducky or get on his bad side!

Sure enough, that evening after chow, Ducky announced that she was to go straight to her room and sleep until Tony called her in the morning.

"But, Ducky..."

"But nothing, my dear. You must sleep. You'll be no help to Jethro if you fall apart from lack of rest and nutrition. One of us will come get you if there is any news. Good night, my sweet lassie. See you in the morning!"

With that, the dapper doctor turned away and headed back to the hospital as her unhappy eyes followed him. Hoping to head off outright rebellion, Tony and Tim each took an arm and began gently escorting her back to the BOQ.

The next morning before sunrise, Molly slipped out of her room and took off for the hospital. She didn't encounter any of her party until she reached Jethro's room where Jon Cartwright stood guard. He grinned. "Got away, did you?"

Returning his grin she simply nodded as she entered the room. She sighed as she noted that Jethro's appearance was unchanged. Surely there had to be some signs one way or the other about his condition. A Dr. Collier, who was on duty in place of Dr. Rogers, arrived and quietly filled her in.

There was more brain activity now than had been the case to this point and they were hopeful that he'd soon begin to come out of the coma. His vital signs were continuing to improve which was also encouraging though it was impossible at this time to determine if there would be lingering negative effects of the poison. Dr. Collier and his colleagues had continued the antidotes they had begun when he had been admitted and the banks of monitors at the nearby nurses' station were constantly watched 24/7.

Quiet descended on the room after the doctor left. The eastern sky was beginning to show a touch of color so others would begin to stir soon.

She picked up Jethro's big hand and gently brushed her fingers over the callouses earned by years of woodwork in his basement. Her mind wanted to explore a series of 'what ifs', but she shut it down. It was futile to go there.

Holding his hand in both of hers, she rested her cheek on it as her mind drifted. Not long afterward, a twitch of that hand jerked her back to the present. Partially open blue eyes were locked onto her but there was no softening of his face or anything other expression that indicated he recognized her.

"Jethro," she breathed softly. "Jethro? Can you hear me?"

That long gaze was unbroken as he slowly withdrew his hand from her clasp and slid it beneath the white sheet covering him. A moment later, his eyes closed again.

Molly sat as still as a statue, her mouth slightly agape, her shocked eyes still fastened on his face. After a moment she recovered long enough to press the call bell. When a nurse arrived, she told what had happened in almost a whisper. "He doesn't know me, does he?" Unshed tears were shining in her eyes.

"I wouldn't put much stock in his responses at this early stage. He still has a ways to go before we can begin to put everything together. Please don't worry. It is more than probable that not all of his mind is functioning right now. More and more will come online as time passes." A sympathetic hand touched her shoulder as the woman left.

Molly's first instinct was to find that hand now hidden beneath the covers and hold it again, but she hesitated. He had most deliberately removed it from her and now she didn't know what to do. After a time, she slowly stood and left the room. Walking almost aimlessly, she found herself standing in the chow line for breakfast, not sure how she had gotten there.

Her plate filled with her favorite Southern breakfast of soft, creamy grits with egg and bacon, she found an empty table near the back of the huge dining facility and ate mostly on automatic pilot. Over a steaming mug of coffee, she thought back over the nurse's comments and decided to trust her word. It had been such a hurtful moment, not at all what she had expected and hoped for.

Coffee finished she carried her tray to the designated disposal area and unloaded it into the marked receptacles, then turned her steps back toward the hospital. Just outside of it, she spotted a bench beneath a tree and decided to sit for a while. Mostly she spent the time praying. God had answered so many of her prayers and she trusted that He would continue to do so.

At some point, she was joined on the bench by Tim. "Get some rest last night, Mac?"

"Yeah."

"Everything okay?"

"Dunno."

"Tell me about it?"

Tim was quiet for long moments after she filled him in. That isn't what he expected either. He wasn't sure what to say and decided that for the time being, he'd just be quiet.

Molly wanted to return to the hospital room but was afraid of being rejected by her husband again. That hurt so bad she wasn't sure she could continue to experience that any more.

Finally she stood and the two agents returned to continue their vigil.

* * *

Everything was blackness with occasional hints of color flashes here and there. Gibbs couldn't make sense of anything. He had no idea where he was - and even this was a realization that occurred without conscious thought. His brain hadn't yet reached the stage where it could string together a thought. He was on some deep subconscious level where everything was done on instinct imprinted in the mind and DNA from ages past.

There seemed to be one tiny fragment that his mind wanted to toy with but it simply wasn't up to the task yet. Then darkness descended again as his brain retreated to continue the healing process.

* * *

Tony contacted the base commander's office to inquire if there was anyone available to stand guard at Gibb's door and was assured that would be attended to immediately. In less than twenty minutes, a sharp marine corporal presented himself to Tony saying that it would be his privilege to stand guard until relieved by the next shift.

Cartwright breathed a long sigh of relief. He had never complained but he was so short on sleep he wasn't sure if he'd even be able to tell someone his name, much less be an effective guard. Tony did ask him if he'd stay with them to help in their investigation here and he readily agreed. He had to admit to being very curious about this MCRT. He'd never seen an elite team work a case and he wanted to see what they came up with and how they did it.

Molly reviewed her findings of the Simmons case files that the agents in Athens sent. Armed with that information, Tony and Cartwright procured a jeep from the motor pool and left for Theriso, the mountain village where the sailor had died.

* * *

It was decidedly cooler at this altitude but it was pleasant, refreshing. Agent Cartwright directed him to the place where the sailor's body had been found. Tony examined everything in the area and made some sketches. There were no homes close by and few trees or other objects that would conceal an attacker, so it had to have been someone the sailor knew or was at least somewhat familiar with.

The two agents located one of the village _mesitis_ who was very cordial to them and readily answered their questions to the best of his ability. The old mediator knew a little English and Cartwright knew a little Greek so actually they managed to communicate quite well, considering.

Aison Tantalos had never learned the name of the girl who originally drew the sailor to the village, but, he declared, doubtless that is how he came to be here.

Families often made their infrequent visits to a market in the lowlands a family outing. The families with daughters who had made the long trek down from the mountains had been questioned carefully by authorities from Chania but no one knew anything about the young man found strangled in their village.

"What about other families?" Tony asked.

Mr. Tantalos shrugged. Apparently those weren't under suspicion in the case.

"Would it be possible to find out?" David Cartwright inquired.

"No. Too much time has passed since the death occurred," was what they gathered from the old gentleman's words and gestures.

Thanking him profusely, the two agents returned to the jeep and sat as they thought and discussed possibilities.

Suddenly, Tony bolted from the jeep and ran after the old man. "Sir, is there a drug problem in the village?"

For the first time, a veil seemed to drop over Mr. Tantalos' eyes. Between Mr. Tantalos' bits of English and Cartwright's bits of Greek, the answer seemed to be, "It is an embarrassment to all who live good lives here, but there are those who seem to partake of drugs."

"Can you give me their names?"

Again, the old man was reluctant to answer, but his honor required that he answer truthfully and he gave a list of six names that he was aware of.

Shaking his hand and thanking him again, the two agents wandered thoughtfully back to the jeep. This opened up an entirely new view on the case. If a girl wasn't involved, then it had to have been drugs.

Tony reached for his cell. "Hey, Tim! How's it going?"

"Hey, Tony. Okay, I guess. No real change yet." He decided not to go into Molly's earlier experience.

"Okay. Have you done any research on the sailor's background? Any indication of drug involvement?"

"Working on it now."

"Okay. I think we'll start back now. See ya later."

Jonathan asked, "He good with computers?"

Tony responded with a laugh, "I've seen 'em line up and sing the Hallelujah Chorus when he tells 'em to! True story - almost."

Jon laughed. "Your team is tight," he observed.

"Yeah, we are. Been together a long time. For a long time, Gibbs and I worked as a team of two. Then we found McGee and he joined. We met Molly several years back on a DEA operation and she's been with us ever since. Not long ago she and Gibbs got married, he resigned from MCRT to accept his current position with Morrow."

They were quiet for a while as they bounced down the rutted mountain roads. "You got any spots open?"

Tony's green eyes turned to examine Cartwright's face for a moment. "Might. You interested?"

"In honesty, yes. I like being a field agent, but I feel like I'm capable of more and I'd like to find out if I can measure up."

' _Good answer,'_ Tony thought. "I'll keep you in mind. Right now, we have some cases to solve, though I think they are related."

Jon nodded. "Good. Thanks. Yeah, it would sure make sense that the two would fit together. Strange way to do things, though."

Tony admitted, "I'm not familiar with the Greek thought process. Maybe it's the way they think. You have any thoughts on that?"

"It's pretty much what you'd find anywhere. The Greeks who live in the lowlands and in the cities are sophisticated people with all the complexities of any intelligent society. Those who live in the outer areas, such as in the mountains, and being more isolated don't always embrace the ideas of their fellow citizens. They're much more conservative, more embedded in the old ways of doing things. Not saying that that is either good or bad, just different."

"If you're asking about the latter's acceptance of drugs in their midst, they would almost overwhelmingly reject it. And, I think you're on to something with that line of thinking. Didn't the doctor say that the fumigant that poisoned Agent Gibbs was one used by rural farmers?"

Tony nodded. "Wonder if there's any way to find which of the villagers in the mountains here have relatives who live outside Athens?"

"I have no idea, but I'll find out." As they turned onto a paved road a last, Cartwright spoke quietly,"By the way. You missed one back there."

"One what?"

"Hole. I saw it and you completely missed it."

Tony grinned and muttered, "Smart ass!"

* * *

~ Continued ~


	4. Chapter 4

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 2 Part 2

LIFE: GREECE

Chapter 4

When Tony and Jonathan returned, they, Molly and Tim reviewed what they had and what they needed. Reassured by the staff that Jethro wouldn't come out of the coma for a while, it was decided that Molly and Tim would go to Athens in the morning, do some snooping around, then return that evening.

Early the next morning, a quick flight to Athens followed by a nerve-rattling taxi ride took McGee and MacKenzie to the Intercontinental Hotel. McGee murmured quietly, "Now I know where Gibbs learned to drive."

Showing their credentials, the hotel manager took them to the room which was still marked with yellow crime scene tape. Except for the Athens agents, no one else had been allowed in since Gibbs had been taken away.

It was difficult to see Gibbs' personal belongings in place as if awaiting his return; his favorite shaving cream, his razor, comb and brush. Tim took many, many photos of everything in the room from every angle imaginable while Molly took swabs of the carpet near the very small crack beneath the door where it was supposed the poison had been released into the room and made sketches.

They discussed taking his belongings back to him and decided that since they had done all that could be done in the room, it would do no harm to remove them.

As is common in most hotel rooms world-wide, the heat/cooling unit was located beneath the windows that included a setting that would simply draw in fresh air from the outside. Gibbs had set his to Fresh Air.

"Tim. Look at this."

He looked then they exchanged a glance before he took several shots of it, then several of the grassy area out of the room's windows.

Thanking the manager, the two walked out of the hotel, temporarily leaving Gibbs' bag with the concierge. They walked around to the side of the hotel, looking carefully at the grass beneath Gibbs' window.

Tim spotted what they were looking for: the faint imprint of a round container or cylinder of some sort. It would be an easy reach for a stream of fumigant to reach the air intake of the unit of room 216. Again, Tim took many photos of the grass and the proximity of the imprint to Gibbs' room while Molly made estimates of distances and sketched.

Now they knew the How but had no idea of the Who or Why. Back inside, they questioned the hotel staff but everyone swore that they knew nothing of the man in room 216 and had received no inquiries about him.

Later, as she and Tim conferred quietly in the middle of the lobby, Tim sighed and suggested that they go to the bar for a break and get some coffee or something.

Molly ordered a Diet Coke and Tim ordered coffee. When the beverages were served, the waiter asked if they wanted this added to their room bill. Suddenly they knew how Gibbs' room number had been made known to the currently unknown Who.

They questioned the bar staff but no one could offer an explanation of how the room number had gotten out. A guest's privacy was of utmost concern in an establishment such as the Intercontinental. Then, one of the bartenders recalled that a customer said he had found a ticket on the floor and was turning it in. The ticket was one for Mr. Gibbs. Happenstance? No way to know. But it was a better clue than they had had so far.

"Was this man Greek or another nationality?"

"Oh, he was Greek, sir."

Molly asked Tim softly, "Wonder if any of the staff is from Crete? Or has relatives there?"

Again the hotel manager was summoned and they were invited to his office where a computer with full information about each employee was turned over to them.

Tim went to work on the computer as Molly scanned the list of possibilities he was uncovering; also she was finally able to make contact with the dead sailor's CO on the USS _Bataan._ A little research revealed that the _Bataan_ was no stranger to drug use among the crew. A few years previously, sixteen crew members had been dismissed and court-martialed for drug use aboard. The current CO had the sailor's records forwarded to Tim's computer.

Hotel department heads were summoned to answer questions the agents had about the employees in question.

The head housekeeper told them of one young woman who had parents in one of the mountain villages on Crete and who now lived here in Athens with her husband. The agents asked to speak with her immediately but were told that the maid had called in sick several days before and was in one of the local hospitals. Her name was Iva Papadakis.

Armed with the woman's name and other pertinent information, they called hospitals in the area, finding her listed as a patient in a facility about a mile away. A quick taxi ride delivered them to the front door and an inquiry at a desk gave them a room number.

In the room, they saw a young dark-haired woman, unconscious, surrounded by machines as a man sat beside her, head bowed, eyes closed, hands clasped beneath his chin.

Tim and Molly entered quietly and waited for the man to notice them. He finished his prayers and stood to meet them. They introduced themselves and inquired politely about his wife's illness.

"The doctors say it is a poison and she may die." His voice slightly cracked under the weight of his emotions.

"Do you know how she came in contact with this poison?"

He shook his head. "She came home from work very early, not feeling well, then she collapsed and I brought her here. That is all I know."

"Your wife is from Crete?"

"Yes. Theriso, a small village in the mountains." The woman's husband was too distraught to be able to analyze their questions.

"She still has relatives there?"

"Yes, though some have now taken up farming near here."

Obtaining the names of those relatives, they excused themselves. It was getting towards evening when the pair returned to the hotel to collect Gibbs' belongings and went to the airport. A little over an hour later they were back at the base.

Molly first went to the hospital to see Jethro but there had been no change. She got a shower and something to eat before returning to the hospital. She'd stay the rest of the night with her husband.

Back in Gibbs' room again, she, Tim, Tony and Jon pooled the information they had gathered. Now it was research time to find out what records could be accessed, the sailor's records studied, etc. Tim did what he did best and was soon looking around in official Greek records for supporting information on what they had learned so far, especially on info regarding relatives of Iva Papadakis.

Ducky sat back listening with fascination as the team began to put all the information in the correct slots and were steadily pulling the case together in a neat package.

The young seaman, Michael Simmons of Mechanicsville, Virginia, had served time in several juvenile corrections facilities in his youth and had joined the Navy a few years after getting out of the last one. His record wasn't spotless but it wasn't dreadfully bad either. He did his assigned work well enough but took no initiative and had to be directed every step of the way.

The chief in charge of his section wasn't happy with the seaman and felt no remorse when the kid disappeared after their stop in Souda Bay. At times, he had even expressed his thoughts that the young seaman seemed at times to be 'zoned out' on something though the kid always passed the piss tests. The chief also expressed his honest opinions when it came time to fill out fitness reports and the sailor's reports reflected exactly that.

The next day, Tony and Jon would return to Theriso and see if they could get more information on those whose names appeared on the short list Mr. Tantalos, the mediator, had given them. Molly and Tim would do further research as well as make a visit to the local police chief to see what they could learn there. All of them worked to link the surnames together and see where it took them. Thanks to Tim's skills, a marriage license listed the maiden name of Iva Papadakis, making it easier to locate her relatives; before her marriage she was Iva Katsarius.

Jonathan Cartwright was now convinced that this MCRT was the team he wanted to work with. To see how these three worked together and how they put things together simply whetted his appetite to be part of them. He appreciated how they were relaxed and comfortable with each other, informal but totally professional and respectful of the chain of command, constantly supporting each other, none being treated as better than the others. Somehow he had to convince Agent DiNozzo to take him with them when they left Greece.

* * *

He was comfortable in the blackness, knowing nothing. Operating on nothing but primal instincts, Gibbs' brain worked to repair damaged circuits, trying to restore injured parts, rerouting information links when necessary, accomplishing supremely amazing feats that humans never imagined.

Somewhere, on some unknown subconscious level, his brain registered the sound of voices that were categorized as familiar and comforting, though at this point, it was unable to manage anything more definite than that.

It was too exhausting to do any more for now. The depth of the blackness welcomed the mind's return to its soft respite.

* * *

It was a longer drive than anticipated to the regional police station near Chania, however, Tim and Molly were welcomed by Police Chief Nikas who thankfully knew quite a bit of English. He told them all he knew and called in various officers who might be able to shed more light on the events surrounding the death of the American sailor.

Computers were checked for records and reports but nothing was really helpful. The names of the suspected drug-using villagers were shared with the chief who agreed to launch a quiet investigation and was more than willing to share the findings.

Molly suggested that they go to the Chania International airport just outside the city to see if they could locate the sailor's name on any manifest going to or from Athens or anywhere else. If he was involved in drugs, he had to have gotten them from somewhere, so they'd pursue that angle as well.

First making contact with the head of security at the sprawling airport, they told him what information they sought. The man was happy to accompany them and break the ice with the various airline personnel. Computers whined and clicked but the sailor's name wasn't on record.

Thanking them for their help, the two agents returned to the base dusty and tired. Their arrival was followed in only minutes by the other half of the team. Showers were the first order of business followed by supper, then a long evening in Gibbs' room which seemed to have become their unofficial bullpen. The staff had been extremely helpful to the team supplying unused tray tables for their use as desks, as well as unlimited amounts of hot fresh coffee and late-night snacks and sandwiches.

Again, pooling their findings for the day, they assessed where they stood and what still needed to be done or followed up on. The team began to rethink their supposition that the sailor was the one taking the drugs to the village. At this point, it would make more sense to consider that he was going to the village to _buy_ them. How he knew where to go and who to see was anybody's guess. Info probably passed from one sailor to another somewhere along the way.

Instead of making another trip into Athens, Jon suggested that they call the office there and have Abrams and Davis locate the relatives of Iva Papadakis. That would allow Molly to spend the whole day with her husband and Tim could dig into places he wasn't supposed to go, while Tony and Jonathan returned to the village to see what they could turn up. Neither of them were looking forward to the bumpy drive back to the village.

* * *

Dr. Mallard continued to follow Jethro's condition carefully. The doctors and staff of the hospital had readily accepted him into their inner circle, not only in sharing information but including him in consultations. The Scotsman's charm and erudite demeanor made that easy for them.

He had accumulated a massive array of medical knowledge during his many years in the profession and had the unique ability to recall it at will. The staff knew they could learn a lot from him and engaged him in conversation whenever time permitted.

In spite of all that, the ME spent the greater part of his day alone in Jethro's room, thinking, remembering, hoping and praying that his dearest friend would emerge from this latest event with both mind and body unscathed. Knowing the normal effects of the poison used, he acknowledged that that was probably a bit too much to ask for, but he held on to his hopes regardless.

He looked forward to the return of the young people every evening to listen to their activities of the day and learn what new things had been uncovered. It was clear that they would solve both of the cases in the very near future and he wanted to be present when they did. So far, they hadn't missed a beat. Jethro would be very proud of them.

* * *

Tony regularly updated Director Morrow on everything going on in addition to reports on Gibbs' condition. Morrow was extremely pleased with the new MCRT team leader. Running completely on their own initiative, it appeared that they would solve two crimes before much longer.

The Chief of Police Nikas called Tony to bring him up to speed on the investigation into the drug users in Theriso. One name stood out above all the others: Thaddaios Katsarius. His father was brother to the father of Iva Katsarius Papadakis. A solid connection. The chief assured Tony that he'd be kept updated as their investigation continued.

The search being made outside Athens for relatives of this family weren't quite as promising. Tony quirked an eyebrow up and looked at Jonathan. "Ready for another field trip?"

Jon just grinned. "Ready when you are, Boss."

So, the next morning, the two of them flew into Athens, then, in spite of warnings from Tim and Molly, took a taxi to the US Embassy so Jon could retrieve his car. Tony decided that Jon's driving wasn't much better until he explained.

"You have to go with their flow or you'll screw the whole thing up. They aren't very good at driving but they are superior at dodging. Somehow, it works. They have very few actual wrecks."

Next stop was the NCIS offices where Tony was introduced to everyone. They met privately in Gibbs' office with Agents Abrams and Davis to discuss their findings of local Katsarius relatives. Both agents leaned heavily toward one name in particular, another of Ive's cousins, Ilias Katsarius.

"Ilias seems to have a major grudge against US authorities but we could never find out why," Agent Davis told them. "It has to be connected with the Simmons murder. He and Iva were close when they were growin' up, right up until Iva married, they were usually found together. If I had to guess, I'd say that, for whatever reason, Ilias is the one behind most of the problems we've experienced here in the office. Once Special Agent Gibbs arrived, he probably saw a chance to make a larger impact by killin' him."

Abrams nodded his agreement. "The canisters of poison are right there on his farm. I think he got the canister to Iva and she is the one who actually sprayed it, taking herself down at the same time. Doctors don't give her much of a chance of a meaningful life if she survives. Since the canister wasn't found anywhere around the hotel, we have to assume that Ilias returned it to his farm."

"How 'bout her husband?" Jon asked.

"Seems to be completely innocent. He's pretty broken up by his wife's prognosis," Abrams said. "If he knew anything, he'd talk."

Tony nodded as he looked through his notes. They could pretty well prove their case against Iva and Ilias but there was still more work to do to wrap up the case in Crete.

Tony asked Special Agent James to join them and laid out the case so far. "I think you should take the evidence to the Greek officials and have Ilias and Iva charged with everything you can think of. Of course, Iva seems to have sentenced herself so we'll leave her status up to the people here. Perhaps Agents Abrams and Davis should do all the follow-up since they are most familiar with it."

James nodded. "I'll see to it, Agent DiNozzo."

Shaking hands with the agents, Tony and Cartwright left to return to Crete. "Now all we gotta do is find out why Simmons was killed. Hope the police can make the last Katsarius cousin talk," Tony said as he yawned and tried to make his tall frame fit in the cramped airplane seat.

He needed to make another call to Director Morrow.

* * *

For the time being, their investigation was in the hands of Greek authorities. Only the murder of Michael Simmons remained to be solved but they had to wait until the local authorities did their thing and got back to them.

It felt good to stand down a day and just rest, though they mostly talked about the cases. Molly remained in the seat close to Gibbs' bed, holding his hand, gently brushing aside any stray hair that may fall on his forehead.

Surely he would begin to awaken soon. She had lost track of time since they had been here. In some ways, it felt as if they had been here for months and months.

Molly held his hand between hers and rested her cheek on them on the side of the bed. She was in that strange in-between place where she wasn't quite fully awake but neither was she quite fully asleep, her mind focused on nothing as her eyes began to droop. Suddenly she sat up with a gasp as she realized that Gibbs' thumb, free from her grasp, had been gently brushing the side of her face.

"Jethro?" Her voice was hardly even a whisper. Then she saw that small, lop-sided smile begin to play around the edges of his lips. And his eyes slowly opened.

"Thought you'd - gone - t'sleep." His voice was a very soft, rough croak.

It was all Molly could do to keep herself somewhat in check and not crush him in the biggest hug she could manage.

"You're really awake! How - how do you feel?"

"Thirsty," came the raw whisper. "Where 'm I?"

"In the base hospital at Souda Bay."

 _"Greece?"_

"Yeah. Don't remember bein' here?"

His head slightly moved indicating a negative.

"It's okay. Everything is alright." Then she paused as she nearly choked on tears she was trying to hold back. "Jethro - I'm so - happy you - remember me." Her voice was only strong enough to reach his ears.

His slightly slurred, croaky voice asked, "Why not? Marriedja, di'n't I?"

Her half-laugh came out almost as a sob. "Yes. You did."

Ducky appeared at her side. "We should alert the staff, my dear. They will be delighted with this happy news just as we are." He pressed the call bell and in only moments, a nurse arrived, obviously happy to see her patient awake. "Commander Rogers will be so glad to hear this! I'll go call him."

Gibbs' eyes had drooped closed. Even that tiny bit of talking wore him out, though he revived for a brief time when Dr. Rogers arrived.

They spent a moment doing the "grasp my finger and squeeze" routine and a few other little exercises along that line before Gibbs had reached the absolute limit of his strength for now.

When Gibbs' drifted into a deep slumber, Dr. Rogers was beaming. "This is almost too much to even hope for. He still has a long recovery ahead, but at least we know that important parts of his memory seem to be intact and he can follow simple instructions. That's a start I'd take any day. He's still much too weak for other types of testing but that will come with time. One step at a time."

The Navy Commander turned to Molly and placed a gentle hand on the side of her face. "I'm very happy for you, Mrs. Gibbs."

Ducky and the doctor conferred as they pored over Gibbs' chart, discussing possible next steps and adaptation of his current care.

Tony and Tim wore big smiles, sharing in Molly's great relief. Even Ducky was hard pressed to get her to go to her room for sleep that night. Only when he drew himself up to his full height and gave her a blue-eyed glare that truly Gibbs-worthy, did she give in.

Cartwright felt a bit awkward during these very important moments, knowing that though he had worked closely with these people, he wasn't a member of this close-knit team and didn't have the long relationship with Agent Gibbs that they did. Nevertheless, he was extremely happy for them, wanting only good things for them.

* * *

Days crept past as Gibbs made very slow and small baby-steps of progress. There was definitely nerve damage, but physical therapy could teach the body and mind to reroute commands and accomplish the desired outcome. Molly knew that was not going to be an easy or pleasant time. Not for the impatient Jethro Gibbs. But they'd get through it.

Neither Dr. Rogers nor Dr. Mallard thought it would be safe for Jethro to make that long, long flight home just yet. In Tony's latest call to Director Morrow, he relayed the latest evaluation of Gibbs' medical condition and the doctor's hopes for a near 100% recovery also received some welcome news that he was looking forward to passing on.

He returned to Gibbs' room after going outside for the call to Morrow and sat beside Jon Cartwright in one of the comfortable chairs that had mysteriously made their way to their home-away-from-home bullpen at one end of Gibbs' room.

"Well, Cartwright, what do you do now?"

Trying his best to hide his great disappointment, the agent drawled, "Well, guess I'll go back to the office. It has truly been a pleasure and an honor to have worked with you and your team. I know now where I want to be and I'm going to continue working toward that goal. I'll miss each of you, as well. You're good people."

Tony looked at him, green eyes appearing to be confused. "But what about your apartment? And your car? Don't you have to make some kind of arrangement for them?"

Cartwright was completely puzzled. "I - I'm afraid I don't follow, Tony."

"Well, seems to me that if you're coming back to DC with us, you'd need to see to a few things in Athens first."

"Go - going to DC? What- - ? Wait! You _mean it? Really?! You mean it?_ " The new member of the number one MCRT in the agency could barely contain himself, catching himself only at the last minute from hugging Tony as tightly as possible.

Before dawn the next morning, Cartwright was up and off to the airport to catch the first flight to Athens. This was one happy man! He quickly sifted through things in his apartment that were to be kept, that were to be thrown away, that were to be given away, and what was to be packed. Having sorted everything out, he stopped by a Greek Orthodox church on his way to the office to donate a large bag of things, then cleared out his stuff from the office before putting the keys to his car into Ronnie Davis' hand. "It's yours with my blessings! May it serve you well!"

A quick round of good bye handshakes and he caught a taxi back to the airport, catching the next flight back to Crete then over to the base.

He walked back into Gibbs' room, telling Tony, "I'm all yours, Supervisory Senior Special Agent DiNozzo! Ready to roll whenever you are, Boss!"

Tony had quietly discussed adding Jonathan to their team with Molly and Tim who were all for it. His personality fit right in with them and he was an excellent agent besides. Now they were four. Tony had really been pleased when Morrow told him the transfer was approved and Agent James had already been notified.

Another subject that the MCRT leader had discussed privately with the Director was the _real_ underlying problem in the Athens office: lack of leadership. Senior Agent James was a good agent and a good man, but he was not blessed with leadership skills. It was evident that the agents in that office were rather bewildered, not sure what was expected of them, and the entire team suffered because of it. When Tony had stepped in with a strong though friendly hand, the agents had responded instantly. All they needed was the leadership.

Morrow said he'd look into it and thanked DiNozzo for his input. His first inclination was to assign Tony to that spot in Athens but realized Tony was right where he wanted to be and where he could function at his best - as leader of the DC MCRT. Following in Gibbs' footsteps, he had found his newest agent after working a case with him.

* * *

~ Continued ~


	5. Chapter 5

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 2 Part 2

LIFE: GREECE

Chapter 5

Gibbs continued to make progress, being able to stay awake a little longer and a little more frequently. Dr. Rogers slowly increased things such as elevating the head of the bed a little more each day, allowing Gibbs' senses to slowly adjust to the different attitudes and perspectives. His diet to begin with was mostly fluids, jello, popsicles, pudding and the like, moving slowly onto very soft foods such as oatmeal. The doctor explained that there were things his body was relearning, even the basics of digestion, so it had to be a slow process.

Naturally the irascible Marine chafed at it but not nearly as much as his former team expected. Actually, he didn't have the energy to spare. It was taking all he had to keep making these small adjustments that would eventually lead to resuming his former life. He still didn't really remember coming to Athens. "Seems like there may some impressions but nothing else," he told them. His speech was better but a therapist was working with him, as well.

To Molly, if that's all he didn't remember, that was fine with her. She spent the great majority of her time right by his bed, enjoying soft bits of conversation with him when he was up to it. Just sitting there holding his hand if he wasn't. She talked to him a lot, telling him stories and anecdotes of her years with DEA or growing up that he hadn't heard or didn't remember. He seemed to enjoy that quiet companionship with her.

At Dr. Roger's suggestion, during the times when her husband felt stronger, she'd engage him more, drawing him into an exchange, which was actually exercising his speech centers, word recognition and word retrieval.

On this day, after contentedly listening to her stories for a while, Gibbs commented in his weak, soft voice, "You talk a lot." There was more of that sweet, lopsided smile that she loved on his face.

Playfully cuffing him lightly on the arm, she retorted, "Well, somebody in the family has to be able to talk."

Pretending to be injured where her fingers had brushed his arm, he said, "That's assault on a federal officer."

Grinning, she told him, "Just wait til we get home and I'll show you 'assault'!"

That evil little smile dancing around on his lips, he responded, "Why wait 'til then?"

"Well, unless you're going to charge admission, you'll have to do something about our audience. And I'm not sure Dr. Rogers would approve."

His eyes drifting slowly closed, he managed, "Close th' curtain - - don't - tell - Rogers."

She said with a smile, "Take a nap."

His eyes were closed but that little sideways smile was present. "Too old for naps."

"Take one anyway."

"You're bossy."

"Yeah. Learned it from you."

As sleep claimed him, she kissed the back of his big hand and rested her head on it nestled between her own, resisting the tears that wanted to be released.

How she loved this man. Crabby, impatient, stubborn, sometime maddening, tall, handsome, loving, warm, funny, sexy. All of him. The preacher had said 'in sickness and in health, for better or worse' and she had given her solemn promise before God Himself. This wasn't a vow she could or would ever break.

* * *

Jonathan was beginning to feel something of what it really meant to be part of this team. They weren't just co-workers. They weren't just friends but something much more, much deeper. And that's what touched him so deeply being accepted by them not only into their team but their shared relationship. More like siblings, maybe something like a family. They were open with each other. That Molly wasn't embarrassed to share such private moments with them spoke more than a library of dusty tomes. They were safe with each other, professionally and personally. He realized that this was something for him to treasure, to give it his all as they did to each other. They were very special people and he was going to demand the best of himself to give to them.

His own parents had divorced when he was very young, then his father was killed in a construction accident a few years later. By his mid-school years, mother remarried but his stepfather wasn't very open to him, so when he wasn't with friends or in some team practice at school, he stayed to himself in his room and studied. Most of the time, he even took a plate of food from the kitchen to his room and ate there alone as he read. His mother didn't seem to object since her new husband liked it better when Jonathan wasn't around.

That's how he grew up until he went to college at the University of Colorado at Boulder where he tried to find out what his life's work would be. By happenstance that first year, he had an open time slot when a course in introductory law enforcement still had openings and that's when he knew. He told his advisor he wanted every course possible in law enforcement and the study of forensics. He graduated in three years _cum laude_ and had done work through the years since then toward his master's degree.

Being a federal agent wasn't just a job or a profession. It was his mission in life and now he felt he was where he belonged. It just didn't get any better than that.

* * *

Greek authorities made arrests of Iva Papadakis' cousins in Athens and on Crete on multiple charges and both would spend the rest of their lives behind prison walls. Iva had sentenced herself.

Though Seaman Simmons wasn't a drug supplier, the cousin in Crete had become enraged when Simmons delivered the message that no one would be picking up where the previous seaman had left off. He was simply doing a favor for a former shipmate. "It's too risky and the chances of being caught are too high." In a near-panic at the prospect of not having a source to feed his addiction, the cousin had killed Simmons.

Iva and her Athens cousin had been incensed when a sailor stationed at Souda Bay had sold their cousin the drugs that got him hooked. They placed blame for their cousin's downward spiral directly on the US Navy. Since NCIS was the closest they could get to the Navy itself, they had begun their harassment of the Agency to express their anger. When Gibbs arrived on the scene, they reasoned that eliminating him would finally get the attention of higher authorities. Maybe something would be done even if it was too late for their beloved cousin.

Both cases were closed.

* * *

Gibbs continued to improve. At last the doctors agreed that he was ready to fly home where his rehab would continue. He had fussed and fumed about having to be transported by wheelchair but Cartwright heard Molly tell him quietly, "Suck it up, Marine. Do what you gotta do."

The former Marine growled as he glared at his wife but he quietened even if the dark scowl stayed on his face; Molly had just smiled. Jonathan found himself fascinated by the warm, close relationship between Gibbs and Molly, or Mac as he started calling her.

Earlier he had asked Tony and Tim about her and they told a little of her story. Tony had learned of her multiple degrees when he took over the team and was given their personnel files. Tim told him about their flying and various adventures in Charlie.

Jonathan grew very quiet. Every one of these people was incredibly smart, accomplished in many areas and highly experienced. _'What made me think I could run with people of this calibre?'_ He was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake. It would be galling to be sent back down to regular ranks if he couldn't cut it.

Tony and Tim exchanged a glance as they saw the look on their new teammate's face. Tony laughed, "You shoulda seen McGeek here when Gibbs first brought him aboard. Stuttered. Scared of his own shadow. Couldn't hit his fanny with both hands. I had him out of the range almost every day trying to teach him how to really shoot. Sad, I tell ya! Real sad!"

Tim grinned and joined in. "It's true. I don't know what Gibbs ever saw in me, but I'm sure glad he did. He scared the daylights out of me. If he even looked my way, I froze. Just totally locked up! I'll never know how I made it. Well, that's not true. It was Tony. I didn't realize it at the time, but he taught me how to be an agent, a _good_ agent. Taught me how to keep my focus regardless of what was going on around me. Taught me how to think. Taught me how to be a Senior Field Agent way before Gibbs was promoted."

"Had to have something to do, Probie! And you were a handy target." A spitball appeared from nowhere and hit McGee on the side of the face.

"That's for sure," Tim muttered. "Unorthodox but it worked."

"How about Mac?" Cartwright asked.

"MollyMac was already good enough. Working _without_ backup for seven years in DEA made her more than good enough. She fit in right from the beginning down in North Carolina. Played a major role in bringing down the Alvada drug empire. Got a high-level member of the organization to talk. Hours of info recorded. That ended that organization."

 _"That was you guys?!"_

"Yeah. We were given the opportunity to feed half the insect population of eastern North Carolina on a lot of boring stakeouts. Never saw so many bugs in my life! But we finally hit pay dirt."

"That's when she got hurt so bad."

"Yeah," Tony answered softly. "Real bad time. Barely made it."

Cartwright was impressed into open-mouthed silence when SecNav's own jet arrived to fly them home. He looked at his teammates with awed eyes when the crew greeted them by name. ' _Man! Do I ever have a lot to learn!'_

Willing hands manhandled Gibbs in his wheelchair up the stairs, into the big plane and lifted him into one of the soft leather seats. The mortification of requiring so much help was almost more than Gibbs could bear. Molly took his hand and held it tightly, helping him with it the only way she could at the moment. He didn't show it but he deeply appreciated it.

Well-armed with medical records, drugs and various medications that may possibly be required, Ducky checked Gibbs' blood pressure and heart as soon as he was settled. The biggest concern that Dr. Rogers had expressed was that the heightened stress of being in a wheelchair, of having to accept so much help in public, and dealing with the long flight may bring some previously hidden problem to light so he had prepared Ducky for almost anything.

The move from the hospital to the airport to the jet had totally exhausted Gibbs and as soon as the gear came up, Molly reclined his seat, covered him with a soft blue blanket and he fell into a deep sleep.

As soon as it was practical, Cpl. Jarmen opened the galley and offered to prepare a good hot meal for them, but for the moment, her freshly made sandwiches and coffee seemed to meet their needs. The flight was quiet and uneventful. Molly spent the time thinking about what to do about her own situation now that Jethro was still disabled and requiring so much assistance and rehab. She couldn't tell him until he was able to deal with it. But did she have that much time?

She glanced at Ducky whose blue eyes were fastened onto her face, as if he understood her troubled thoughts. She was going to have to talk with him when the opportunity presented itself and ask his advice. She mustered up something like a smile for the ME then got up from her seat to ask the Corporal for another cup of coffee.

"How are you holding up, my dear?" Ducky appeared at her side.

Molly sighed. "Okay, Ducky. But - sometime soon - could I speak with you privately? I - need some advice."

"Of course, lassie. Whenever you like. The forward part of the cabin is empty. Would you like to take advantage of this opportunity?"

Molly thought for a moment, then, suddenly she felt she couldn't keep this to herself any longer. It was more than she could manage alone. "Yes, Ducky. Yes. Thank you. I really - need - for someone to know and I can't tell - Jethro - until he is stronger."

They moved forward and in a low soft voice, Molly told Ducky.

His blue eyes sad, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Oh, my dear. I don't see how you have managed alone this far. I agree that Jethro mustn't know until he has further recovered. But know that I am available to you at all times. Is there anything I can help you with now?"

"No, Ducky, but thank you. It's - a relief - to be able to tell someone. I'm already beginnin' to experience some of the symptoms. I just hope I don't run out of time before - "

"I understand, dear Molly. We will cross that bridge when we come to it if it becomes necessary. I'll be with you, Molly. I'm not the husband you love so dearly but I'll advise you to the best of my ability. Now. Go back to your seat and enjoy that good coffee. Don't worry; I'll shoulder that part for you."

Molly stood and hugged the Medical Examiner tightly. "Thank you, dear Ducky. Thank you for bein' such a wonderful friend to both Jethro and me. All of us treasure you."

"Oh, my dear! You'll surely turn my head with such compliments! It is my privilege to be your friend - and the honor is certainly mine."

A little over ten hours later, the big jet touched down in the dark at Ronald Reagan National Airport in Washington. An ambulance waited plane-side to take Gibbs to Bethesda.

Gibbs was angry; he wanted to go _home_ , even if he couldn't walk just yet. A long silent look from his wife stemmed the flow of threats and curses and, though still fuming, he silently allowed himself to be carried off the airplane, placed on a gurney and loaded into the ambulance.

Even Tony, Tim and Jon had initially looked surprised to see the ambulance. They just hadn't considered that Gibbs wasn't able to manage at home. Thanking the flight crew profusely, the MCRT deplaned. Jon was going to stay with Tony until he could get himself established. He'd never even been to Washington before.

Molly collected the belongings for both Jethro and herself, then climbed into the ambulance for a last word with Jethro. "I'll see you at the hospital in a few minutes. The Jeep is here so I have transportation."

For a moment, there was a look of apprehension on Gibbs' face as if he was afraid he would be left alone. She leaned down and gave him a long, blisteringly passionate kiss, then smiled and said softly, "See ya in a few, Gunny."

The rear doors slammed shut and the driver eased the ambulance through the exit and onto the road, picking up speed in the light evening traffic. The EMT riding in the back with Gibbs told him with a grin, "I'm not even going to bother checking your blood pressure after that kiss!"

Gibbs' eyes remained closed but the cheeky smirk on his face stayed put.

* * *

Molly helped Jethro get settled in his room in Bethesda while Ducky reviewed his medical records with the doctors and staff. Molly had a quiet word with the maintenance supervisor who approved her bringing a coffee pot from home to use in the room. It would definitely make everyone's life better!

Gibbs' room was really quite nice. Located at one end of the wing, there were large windows on two sides of the room, letting in plenty of sun and eliminating much of the feeling of being closed in.

Molly stayed with Gibbs the first night, but went home shortly after breakfast to get a shower, pack clean clothing, collect their mail and a few other odd chores that needed attention after such a long absence. On the way back to the hospital, she stopped at Mr. Jenkins' home to get Roger.

Roger may be getting a little age on him now but no puppy could out do his enormously enthusiastic welcome to his beloved mistress. She had a cup of coffee with Mr. Jenkins as she brought him up-to-date on her husband's condition and her hopes for his full recovery.

Back in the Jeep with her beloved Roger beside her, she drove to Bethesda. Putting Roger's work harness on him, she gathered the things needed and led the big shepherd inside. Being very familiar with service dogs, no one gave Roger a second glance except to admire his outstanding beauty.

Gibbs wasn't in his room, so she put everything away, filled Roger's food and water bowls, and made a pot of Jethro's favorite special blend of coffee. She had brought several USMC mugs and lined them up on a wide window sill with the coffee pot. The shelf was down low enough that Gibbs could reach it himself when he was in the wheelchair.

Seated in a comfortable armchair, she stretched her legs out in front of her and slid down in the seat a little, just resting a moment, scratching a very contented shepherd behind his ears. Looking around the room, she truly hoped and prayed that Jethro wouldn't be here all that long, however, he had to relearn some things and build up the strength to do them. It wouldn't be easy, but she was determined that she wouldn't let him quit.

Not long afterward, a frazzled-looking man wearing a USMC t-shirt pushed her husband's wheelchair into the room. Gibbs' face wore an expression of frustration and anger. She stood and kissed her husband thoroughly with a "Hi, Love," then held her hand out to the marine with a sunny smile, "Hi, I'm Molly MacKenzie - or Mac, if you chose."

The marine gently took her hand in his big beefy paw. He was built like a giant fireplug; if a tank tried to knock him down, it would suffer significant damage. "A pleasure, ma'am. Sgt. Dawson, physical therapist." His soft Alabama drawl came from somewhere deep down in that big barrel chest.

Molly couldn't help the grin that spread over her face. "Rough session, huh?"

Sgt. Dawson shook his head and muttered, "Ma'am, you don't know the half of it."

"Ohhh, I can imagine, trust me! I'm married to this ornery man."

Gibbs growled then snapped, "If the two of you have finished talking about me, I'd like to get back in bed!"

Dawson moved the wheelchair closer to the bed, leaned down and picked up six-foot-something Gibbs like a child and placed him gently in bed, then drew the cover over him before releasing a big sigh of relief.

Molly asked, "Got time for a cup of marine-strength coffee, Sergeant?"

Hearing his wife's invitation to the other man, Gibbs' scowl got even darker. Dawson was a bully of the worst sort and he didn't like all the orders he gave.

The sergeant hesitated only a moment before a broad smile spread across his face. "Now that would be real good, ma'am! Thank you kindly."

"You can only have it under the condition that you don't call me ma'am. I'm not old enough to be a ma'am."

"Well, you got a deal, Miss Molly. Haven't had a good cup of real good coffee since I don't remember when!"

Raising the head of Jethro's bed, Molly gave him a cup of his coffee and watched happily as a contented smile took up residence on his face.

The sergeant's reaction wasn't a lot different. "Where'd you get this, ma' - Miss Molly?"

"Jethro found it when he was on a mission in Colombia. A special blend just for him that is on permanent order."

Holding the mug up as a salute to the man in the bed, he murmured, "Mmm. Good stuff!"

Molly said, "You two enjoy your coffee, I'm taking Roger out for a bit. Be back shortly!" She paused just outside the door and listened a moment, then smiled and went on her way.

Dawson asked, "What did you do in the Corps?"

"Scout sniper."

There was more conversation of shared experiences before Dawson asked, "What was NCIS doin' down in Colombia?"

Gibbs shrugged and muttered, "Had to take some trash out."

"Did you?"

Gibbs just gave him a steady look that was accompanied by the smallest of small smirks.

The sergeant grinned and raised his mug again. "Ooooh-rah, Gunny."

"Oooh-rah, Sarge."

* * *

Away from other people, Molly's smile faded, replaced by worry and fear. Her time was running out, yet Jethro didn't seem to remember that they were to have a talk.

She took out her cellphone and called Ducky. She needed his reassurance.

"Hello, my lovely lady! To what do I owe this call from one of my favorite people?"

"Hi, Ducky. I'm - I'm gettin' scared. My time is almost up and I don't know what to do. Jethro doesn't remember."

"Oh, my dear. Yes, I understand. The symptoms are increasing?"

"Yes. I'm not sure I can hide it much longer."

"We are almost finished here for today. I should be there in - approximately an hour. Can you hold on just a little longer?"

"Yes, I think so. Thank you, Ducky. I don't know what I'd do without you. You always know just what to do."

"Oh, not always, my dear. It is only because I have so much more experience on Planet Earth that enables me to help where I can. See you soon, sweet Molly."

Closing the phone, Molly thought, _'What would I do without that dear, dear man?'_

Roger was enjoying just exploring the area around where Molly sat on a bench, rolling on the thick green grass, snorting and behaving like a puppy for a few moments. Molly had to smile. Roger had been her savior at a rough time in her life. He had given her unconditional love when she had none and he was totally dedicated to her.

She sniffed and smiled at herself as she wiped her moist eyes. _'Havin' a sentimental day, huh?'_

When Roger returned to her side, he put a paw on her leg as if he was telling her that he was ready to go anytime she was. Standing still while his human slipped his work harness onto him again, there was no sign of puppy-Roger now. He was ready to get back on duty.

When she returned to the room, Jethro and Sgt. Dawson were still drinking coffee, swapping stories and adventures, finding out which people they both had known in service, bases and assignments that each had had. It seemed to be a really excellent bonding time for both of them.

Harness removed, Roger retired to the quiet corner he had selected for himself and made himself comfortable on the familiar small rug from her bedside at home. Food, fresh cool water, a comfortable place to sleep and both of his humans were with him. Just didn't get any better than that in Roger's world.

* * *

When Sgt. Dawson finally had to leave, Molly rose to wash out his coffee mug, when suddenly one leg didn't want to follow her brain's commands and she nearly fell. Jethro sat up quickly in alarm, "Molly! Are you alright?"

"Yeah, it's okay," she quickly assured him. "Just trippin' over my own two feet." She hoped he bought the smile she now wore. Thankfully, the nerves now accepted the brain's orders and she continued with her task. Washed and dried, the mug now sat with the others on the wide sunny windowsill.

Jethro continued to study his wife, as if he was trying to remember something. It was something important but he couldn't think of what it was. Molly saw his expression. _'Oh, Ducky. Please hurry!.'_

Molly tried to hide her increasing nervousness while she waited on Ducky's arrival. When he did come, he brought a large cold Diet Coke and Dr. Nilsson, one of Jethro's physicians, with him. Oh, that cold drink was really needed. Molly drank deeply of it before she filled a small appliance called a Hot Shot with a cup of water and, within twenty seconds or so, it was boiling hot, just right to brew a perfect cup of tea for the good Dr. Mallard. Dr. Nilsson, Commander US Navy, accepted a cup of Gibbs' private blend with a smiling thanks.

Gibbs' eyes barely left the cold drink Molly now picked up and drank. He then looked at her. "You had something you were going to tell me."

"Yes...which is why Ducky and Dr. Nilsson have joined us." She glanced at the two doctors hoping for one of them to jump in, but they politely waited for her to tell her husband herself.

"Jethro, I have to tell you something and I need you to hear me all the way out before you say anything, okay? That's important." She swallowed hard and tried hard to keep herself calm.

Once he nodded, she took a deep breath and shakily continued. "You remember - after I was beaten up and shot - that a lot of things inside were - damaged and stuff - and all the doctors said I could never have children? Well, somehow - I actually - conceived."

Jethro's eyes got wide.

"No! You have to hear me out, Jethro."

He visibly withdrew into himself and she took another breath.

Her voice was trembling badly as she continued, "But, because of all the - damage - inside, there's a problem with me being able to carry him - or her - to full term." This was harder than she expected, in spite of all the times she had rehearsed it in her mind. Getting the actual words out was really hard and the tremble in her voice was beyond her control now.

"If I'm to - live, our baby will - die. And vice versa. But there is an option that I want you to _seriously_ consider, Jethro. And I want you to know that I'll - abide with whichever decision you make."

Jethro was now sitting up, legs off the side of the bed, holding her hands tightly.

"Jethro, if you want to keep this baby, I can be kept - viable - by machines - until it is - ready to be born. You've lost a child already so I fully understand if that's what you want. You'll be a fantastic father, an amazin' dad, and there's so much you can teach him or her. It would a life of joy for you and I want you to stop and _seriously_ think about it. You could maybe tell him about me sometime."

Gibbs' face was white and he was visibly shaking as his hands pulled her close. "Molly, there's no decision to make!" His voice was shaky but firm and resolute. "I'll _always_ choose you over any other. Do you think I could endure even a moment without you? Your strength? You are what keeps me going. No! My decision is made and it's final! We'll not discuss that again."

He grabbed her and held her so tight it actually hurt but it was her inability to breathe that finally caused her to draw back a little. Tears began to trickle down her face. His big thumb brushed them gently away.

Jethro asked quietly, "What do we do now?"

Molly looked back at Ducky and he stepped a little closer enclosing a hand over each of theirs. "Oh, my dear friends. What a terrible thing for the two of you to have to face. Jethro, it's probable that the wee one will not be able to survive because his mother's body is simply not able to support them both. In that case, he or she will be stillborn at some point. In the mostly unlikely event that he does manage to survive, he will have to be aborted if Molly is to live."

"I know you are unaware of it, but she's already showing symptoms of problems that will continue to escalate. The placement of the womb containing the baby is placing a great deal of pressure against her lower spine's nerves and at times she loses control over her legs, momentarily unable to walk. Her kidneys are under stress, there is growing concern that the blood flow to at least one section of her colon is in imminent danger of being cut off. It is so terribly unfortunate that nothing can be done to alleviate any of it while the little one is present."

Jethro's face was stark in its whiteness, so much so that Dr. Nilsson quickly approached the other side of his bed and pushed his shoulders down on the bed as Ducky lifted his legs back under the cover; the doctor elevated the foot of the bed a little. "Rest a moment, Agent Gibbs. A little water?"

A few sips of cold water and he turned away from the straw being held for him. His breath a bit ragged, he kept his attention on his wife. "Molly, you cannot die!" He turned his eyes to Ducky and asked, "When can this be ended? She can't take any more damage."

Ducky glanced at Molly before answering, "Anytime, Jethro. She refused until you were able to hear about it and had the opportunity to give you the choice."

All three looked at Molly. She swallowed very hard, doing her best to stem the flood of tears that were demanding to be let loose. She shook her head slightly. Her voice was distraught. "I don't know! I don't know if I can bring myself to - to cause the death - of our baby. It's just not right somehow. I'm his mother. I'm supposed to take care of him, to protect and nurture him."

By now the battle with the tears was a total loss and she sank into a chair, heart-rending sobs shaking her entire body. Ducky did his best to comfort her, gently stroking her back, murmuring soft reassurances to her.

Gibbs lay in stricken silence. Shannon and Kelly. It could _NOT_ be Molly and another child! He understood deep within himself that he would never survive it. He'd simply lose his mind; life wouldn't be worth even attempting.

As soon as the black spots began to clear from his eyes, Jethro struggled against the doctor holding him down, trying to get to Molly.

"Let me up!" he demanded as loudly as his weakness permitted.

Ducky glanced at Dr. Nilsson then at Molly. Catching his colleague's suggestion, Nilsson nodded.

"Molly? Molly, dear." The ME pulled her up from the chair then lifted her onto the side of the bed, turning her so he could stretch out her legs as she crumpled into her husband's arms. The two of them cried and fought their emotions together as the two doctors closed the curtains, turned off the main light and closed the door.

Taking a sheet of paper from the Nurses' Station, Dr. Nilsson wrote, 'Do NOT Disturb!', handed it to a nurse and indicated which door it was to be posted on, saying, "That goes for staff, as well. And no visitors until further notice," he instructed.

* * *

~ Continued ~


	6. Chapter 6

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 2 Part 2

LIFE: GREECE

Chapter 6

During the long night, Jethro and Molly held each other, cried and talked about the heart-breaking situation in which they were caught. Jethro had finally decided that he'd let Molly decide when she had finally run out of time and had to make her decision. She knew his wishes but he also knew her very strong maternal feelings had to be taken into consideration.

During the next days, he watched her carefully, his heart clutching with every misstep or stumble. Molly was one of the most sure-footed people he'd ever seen; the pressure on her spine was taking its toll.

Now Gibbs rarely argued with Sgt. Dawson about working too hard or too long or just being grouchy for the hell of it. The sergeant certainly noticed but didn't ask why. He only knew that Gibbs' eyes rarely strayed from his wife if she was present. It had something to do with her but what was none of his business.

The next morning, as Molly finished helping Jethro get dressed, she suddenly gasped and her hand grabbed her lower side. Gibbs grabbed her other hand, asking in a trembling voice, "What is it? Molly, are you alright?"

Catching her breath and straightening up, she answered, "It was just a sharp pain. I must have shifted somethin', I guess."

"Call Ducky! Right now! Here, give me your phone." His blue eyes showed a touch of fear and she was not used to seeing that in him. It was disconcerting.

"Jethro, no. Ducky is busy. He can't drop everything and come runnin' for every little thing!"

"Hey, Duck. Molly's been hit by a pretty sharp pain. What's wrong with her? ... Lower right side sorta toward the front a little. ... Dunno." "Molly, who is your doctor?"

"AnnaLee Watters."

Ducky said, "I heard. I'll see if Dr. Watters has privileges at Bethesda. If not, we'll contact an OB/GYN on staff there. Relax, both of you. I'm caught up and can be there in a few minutes. Until then, just relax, okay?"

"Okay, Duck. Thanks."

Gibbs could now stand a bit though taking steps had yet to be attempted. But, that was enough for the moment. Leaning back against the side of the bed, he could stand on his own two feet and hold his wife. After a time, she murmured, "I'd better take Roger out for a bit. Not sure when I can take him again."

"Don't worry about him, we'll take care of him. I want you to just sit down and let's see what Duck has to say."

Molly was concerned. _Who_ was going to take Roger out for walks and exercise? He can't just be left to stay on that rug all the time.

Sgt. Dawson appeared in the doorway. "Didn't know if you were havin' PT today or not, Gunny. Saw the note on the door this mornin'. Everything okay? Anything I can help with?" His dark eyes showed genuine concern.

Jethro answered softly, "Come on in, Sarge. Molly's not doing too good. We're waiting on Ducky to get here now. She's worried about Roger not getting outside enough. Told her we'd take care of him."

"That's right, Miss Molly. You just listen to Gunny here. You introduce Roger to me and I'll see to his care and exercise. I'm a dawg man through and through."

Molly loved his Alabama accent and smiled. This might be the answer they needed.

"Roger. Come."

The shepherd instantly rose and walked to her side. Molly knelt down, stroking Roger's beautiful soft thick fur. "Roger, this is Sgt. Dawson, our friend. He'd like to be friends with you, as well."

Roger turned his eyes from his human's face to the face of the man squatting down beside him, now speaking softly. "Hey, there, big guy. Wow, you're a beauty, are'ncha? You know, my brother used to have a dawg just like you. Fine dawg, he was, too! Think you and me can take a little walk outside for a few minutes? Just a little walk to see if you trust me or not. Whaddaya think, Roger?"

Roger wasn't sure about all this. The new human seemed friendly enough but he didn't really want to go without one of his other humans with him. Not all humans were worthy of being trusted.

Molly said, "I'll go with you, Rog. That okay?"

Roger wagged his tail and stood up. Molly strapped his harness on and attached the short leash. She told Jethro, "We'll be back in just a few minutes."

Dawson watched how she quietly directed the shepherd and his instant obedience. As they walked, Molly told the sergeant Roger's story. "He's trained with both voice and hand signals. He's also trained to NOT attack unless given a specific command unless his handler is unconscious. Then, somebody better watch out!"

She handed the leash to Dawson and saw Roger glance at her but accepted that the new human now had his leash since his mistress was with him. When they reached the bench where she usually sat, Dawson slowly walked about with Roger, giving him time to tend to business, then, being very gentle with the leash, began slowly working with quiet voice commands - sit, stay, heel, etc. Roger was alert to the commands being given and obeyed them, but he kept glancing at his human on the bench. Those looks as much as said, "I'll do this o _nly_ if it is temporary, but I am _not_ in it for the long haul!"

Molly had to chuckle. She could read his thoughts so well and he cracked her up. She sent him the hand signal for 'Continue' and he all but glowered, making her laugh right out loud.

Very soon they returned to the room, much to Gibbs' relief. If nothing else, he could hold Roger's leash as Dawson pushed the wheelchair outside. They'd make it work.

* * *

True to his word, the much-loved ME arrived as quickly as traffic allowed. "Dear lassie, how are you feeling?"

"Well, okay now, Ducky. There was that one sharp jab then nothing."

She showed him the location of the pain and his blue eyes were serious. "I think it is time to make the acquaintance of someone on the OB/GYN staff here and see if we can find out exactly what is happening in there. It is imperative that further damage be kept at a minimum. I shall return shortly."

Holding her hand, Jethro now pulled her close to the bedside and patted the edge of the mattress. She sat beside him, held in his strong arms, leaning against his broad chest. He always made her feel so safe, so protected, so warmly loved. If she could have her way, she'd just stay there, drawing on his powerful presence and strength. This man was everything that existed for her. There simply weren't words to fully describe the full breadth and depth of her love for him.

She was truly frightened now. What if - she was about to miscarry? Their baby - - - she couldn't help it; she already loved this baby as deeply and fiercely as only a mother can. There was no way to explain it but it was undeniably there.

"Jethro, are you _sure_ you wouldn't rather - raise our baby? It may be time to make that final decision - and I'm - scared. I want our baby!"

Jethro heard the despair in Molly's voice and understood, but he knew, as much as he'd love to be a father again, that it wouldn't work without Molly there with him.

"Oh, Molly-girl." His face was buried in her soft, silky hair, and his voice was low and very sad. "I love him, too. But I have to have you with me. I can't do anything without you, don't you know that? You're the air I breath."

Molly's tears wet the front of his shirt but neither noticed.

Ducky returned with a tall, slim, dark-haired woman wearing a white staff coat. Speaking very softly, he told them, "This is Dr. Karen Latham. She'll be taking care of you, Molly."

He moved aside and gestured for the woman to approach. Her voice too was warm and soft. "I'm glad to meet both of you, but I wish so much it was under better circumstances. I spoke with AnnaLee Watters who told me of your situation. Tell me how you've been feeling, Molly. That will give us a good starting point for anything we might need to do."

Through her tears, Molly described the symptoms she was experiencing, then said in an anguished whisper, "I want my baby..."

A gentle hand lightly squeezed her shoulder, "Oh, I do understand, Molly. I do. What I'd like to do is have you come with me so we can do a little exploring with tests that will give us a good idea of exactly where we stand, okay? I think that will help us a lot. What do you think?"

Molly sincerely appreciate Dr. Latham's warm attitude and the fact that she was totally open to incorporating parents into a partnership with her.

Molly looked into Jethro's blue eyes, so thankful to see his love there and she knew he'd be right with her. He nodded, then she nodded to the doctor. Jethro announced firmly, "I'm coming, too!"

Molly turned to him, "Jethro...Roger? You can't leave him here alone."

Dr. Latham interjected, "We need to get some blood work done and an x-ray or two will be very helpful. I'd like to make a quick exam myself, then I believe we can return here until we see what the lab and x-rays tell us. So, if you don't mind waiting here until we get this initial stuff out of the way, that would very helpful."

Molly agreed but Jethro's eyes had "that look" and she sighed. "Please, Jethro. I won't be gone long - and it's just girl stuff. You'd have to wait outside anyway."

Jethro grunted and growled before muttering something that ended with a most reluctant, "...if I gotta."

Molly gave Roger a quick hug and told him to stay. If Jethro didn't want to be parted from her, Roger could beat him in spades on that subject. He whined pitifully, almost crying, lifting a paw as if he was reaching out to her. Molly took a deep breath, gave him the 'Stay' signal and quickly left the room before she gave in to them completely.

Dr. Latham smiled and took Molly's elbow as they walked. "They really love you."

Molly could only nod; she didn't trust herself to speak at that moment.

"Well, I expect you'll be back with them very shortly. Then we can decide where we stand."

Molly started to respond when suddenly her right leg gave out, not responding to any command she sent to it. Only Dr. Latham's quick reflexes had kept her from falling to the floor.

The doctor quickly summoned an orderly with a wheelchair. Lifted into the chair, Molly couldn't restrain the tears that still wanted to flow. Calmly and softly, Dr. Latham reassured her that she'd be fine that she needn't worry, the paralysis was surely only temporary.

* * *

After all the exams, x-rays and needles collecting vials of her blood, an orderly wheeled Molly back to Jethro's room. Roger whined, begging her to pet him, so she motioned for him to 'come' and he all but jumped into her lap. Holding him and soothing him with soft words until he was finally content to return to his rug.

Jethro watched the two of them and his heart went out to the big shepherd. Molly's constant companion didn't understand what was going on but then he thought, ' _Neither do I!'_

When Molly turned toward Jethro, he asked in a low, almost hard monotone, "Why are you in a wheelchair, Molly?"

"I had a little problem on the way there so it's just better if I mostly use the chair for now."

Those remarkable blue eyes never wavered from her face as he clearly didn't buy her version of what had happened. Jethro gestured toward the bed. "C'mere."

Molly looked at him, not wanting him to see her condition. "I - uh - I think I better stay in the chair for now, Jethro. Don't want to maybe - fall."

Those eyes. There was so much in them but she couldn't decipher what they were really saying. The moment of silence stretched out uncomfortably before he asked quietly, "You can't walk, can you?"

Molly tried to smile, "Just for a little while. It'll come back. The nerves are just - sorta - blocked or something..." Her voice trailed off into silence. ' _Well, it's true,'_ she told herself.

Jethro was never so angry at himself as he was now. Molly needed him and here he was a big fat zero for her! _'Some husband you are, moron! She's been with you from before you woke up, helping anyway she could - and now...'_ He looked down with total disgust at his legs that didn't remember how to walk.

Watching these emotions cross his face, Molly feared that his anger was directed at her. "Jethro, I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you angry. I'm sorry for whatever I did. Please don't be mad at me."

Jethro was shocked, alarmed and devastated that she misunderstood his emotions. "No, Molly. Never! You've been here for me every minute plus working two cases - and carrying this - this - secret at the same time. And now, when you need me, I'm useless! I can't even get in or out of bed by myself. That's what makes me so angry!"

Molly rolled as close to him as the chair permitted and took his big hands, holding them against her face, kissing each one. Surely this black nightmare would end for them. Never had she ever expected anything like this in her life. George Langford. She would never give him the satisfaction of knowing the full cost of the damage he had caused to happen to her.

Dr. Latham returned to the room. "Well, we now know what is taking place, Molly, Jethro. It begins with what we call 'placental abruption' which simply means that the placenta is separating from the uterus wall. This has interrupted the flow of oxygen and other life-giving sources to the baby. I'm afraid - there - is no heartbeat discernable. As sad as this is, I hope you can look on it as a mercy since it has resulted in no suffering and no trauma for your baby."

She paused a moment to give the stunned parents a moment to digest the information before continuing.

"What we need to address as soon as possible is the internal bleeding that is taking place. You probably feel weak, light headed, rather sleepy. It only gets worse the longer it continues. After - after removing the baby - which we do as gently as possible - we must perform an emergency hysterectomy since all this closely involves the kidneys, liver and other organs."

"You'll require transfusions to replace whatever this blood loss amounts to and you'll need to be closely monitored for any negative symptoms that could develop."

She glanced around Gibbs' room. "I think we can arrange to have the two of you share a room since there are extenuating circumstances. I'm sure both of you will feel better knowing exactly how the other is doing." She smiled. "I have no doubt that Mr. Gibbs would spend every moment over in the Obstetrics unit otherwise."

"I'm so - sorry that the two of you are faced with the whole situation but I promise I'll do my very best for you, Molly."

Molly's voice was barely even a whisper. "Thank you, Dr. Latham. We have to do this now?"

"Yes, dear. The sooner the better. Your blood loss can be significant and we must take care of that as quickly as we can. Why don't you and Jethro have a moment together before we go. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

Jethro's face said it all. All of his fears were etched in the tight lines around his eyes and lips. Molly's face looked lost with sadness beyond description. Brown eyes, usually so soft, showed the devastation she was experiencing. And, yes, she was feeling rather strange. Tears seemed beyond reach now; they could no longer express the depth of her feelings. The constant drain of her blood supply made her want to just put her head down and sleep. Maybe when she woke, she'd find that all this was simply a terrible, terrible nightmare.

George Langford. He's the cause of all this anguish. He arranged the beating, he shot her, he burned her home. And now he had killed her precious baby. Her only satisfaction was the knowledge that he'd live the rest of his miserable, greedy life behind gray prison walls. Life without the possibility of parole.

 _'George, you killed my baby. You! Killed! My! Baby! DAMN you, George Langford! Damn you to Hell! God, I'm so sorry but I can't forgive him. Maybe sometime later. But not now. God, please take care of my baby. Tell him I love him. His dad loves him, too, and we won't forget him."_

Jethro and Molly just held each other. There weren't any more words. If there was any way possible Jethro would just put her inside himself so he could always keep her safe from all harm and hurt. He was just glad that his mind had recovered enough so he could support her through this.

He thought back to that night before he left when he was demanding that she tell him. She was right. He wouldn't have been able to deal with it. He could barely cope when he was right here holding her as tight as he dared. His Molly. His baby.

There was related subject he wanted to bring up but didn't know how to approach it. Finally he managed, "Molly, there's space beside Shannon - and Kelly."

With a sob, she nodded. Yes, that would be a good place.

Then Dr. Latham was back with a hospital administrator who had a bunch of papers that had to be signed before surgery. When she asked if they had considered what they wanted done with "the fetal remains" Molly's temper fired on all cylinders.

"He's not a nothing! He's a human - even if he didn't have a lot of time. And he'll be buried beside other family!"

The woman blinked. "Of course. We'll make arrangements for your wishes to be carried out." She finished the last of her legal stuff and left a little hurriedly.

Dr. Latham smiled and took Molly's hand and looked into the fire still burning in her eyes. "You're absolutely right, Molly. He's a little boy whose parents love him very much. Don't worry. I'll see that everything is done properly and with utmost respect."

"It's time now. Mr. Gibbs, why don't you rest here and I'll have a nurse notify you the moment surgery is complete. She'll be in recovery for a while afterward before she can join you here."

"I'm going with her." His voice was low and quiet but left absolutely no room for argument or discussion. Ducky, who had returned with Dr. Latham said, "I'll be with you, Jethro. After surgery we can return here to rest while preparation is made for Molly's arrival in your room later."

Gibbs nodded.

Ducky asked, "Do you want me to notify the others or would you rather not?"

Gibbs thought. He didn't think he could deal with all the traffic in and out so he answered, "You can tell them but we don't need visitors for a while. We - Molly and I - need time..."

"I understand. I'll see to it. Should I call Sgt. Dawson to look after Roger while we're gone?"

A nod was his answer so he had the desk call the sergeant and left his cell number. In another moment or so, arrangements were made and Dawson was on his way.

After Gibbs was helped into his wheelchair, Ducky handed him a mug of the strong coffee to sustain him through the next several hours, then pushed the chair down the hall behind Molly and Dr. Latham.

* * *

Molly became somewhat aware of quiet voices and people moving around but nothing was making sense. Why was she here? Where was _here_? Jethro! Where is he? She tried forcing her eyes to open but her muscles simply wouldn't do what she was telling them to do. She tried calling his name but she succeeded only in making a slight bit of noise, almost like a whimper.

Then a strong hand took hers and her whole body relaxed. She knew that hand. She was familiar with every rough callous on it. He was here. She was safe. She'd figure out the rest of it later.

* * *

Molly's recovery was a little longer than she had expected but it was made easier by having Jethro so close. Her internal bleeding had become almost a hemorrhage and she received five units of blood to replace what she'd lost.

Her legs were beginning to respond again, though she wasn't allowed to walk yet. They could say what they wanted. She'd get up to use the bathroom whether they liked it or not - though she nearly passed out the first couple of times she got up.

On the fifth day, a nurse's aide helped her get a shower, shampoo and put on some real clothes which made her feel a thousand percent better. Then Dawson came to get both of them, pushing both chairs as Molly held Roger's leash. They made quite a sight going down the hall.

In the gym, it was Molly's turn first, bracing herself between the parallel bars, trying to make her legs do what she wanted. Sometimes the message got through, sometimes it didn't. That made it terribly frustrating. But she wouldn't quit or complain. She'd just clamp those teeth together and keep struggling until she had no strength left. Then Dawson would put her in her chair and it was Jethro's turn.

He worked just as hard but he didn't bother hiding his growls and snarls. Dawson took it in stride, letting it roll off like water off a duck's back. "Yeah, Gunny. Whatever. Pick up those legs! You can do it. You gonna let that little girl over there whip your sorry ass at PT? You're not much of a Marine, ya know that?"

The comments flew back and forth between the two and Molly had to smile at them. They had actually become good friends over their USMC mugs of strong coffee.

Jethro had lifted his ban on visitors a few days back so all the NCIS crew, Fornell, and Mr. Jenkins all came regularly to see them. To give him a break from the hospital, Mr. Jenkins often took Roger home with him so he could run and play in the big enclosed yard behind his home, chasing the ball the old marine tirelessly threw for him.

Nights would find Mr. and Mrs. Gibbs in one bed or the other, secure in each others' arms, drawing strength from each other.

The only break from this routine occurred a few days after Molly's surgery. Dressed, wheeled out to agency sedans into which they were transferred, then driven in a courtege of vehicles to a certain cemetery where a tiny white coffin, surrounded by the loveliest of flower arrangements, and the pastor who had married them, waited.

After a sweet, very touching service, little Jethro Jackson Gibbs was gently laid to rest beside two sweet angels - Shannon Fields Gibbs and Kelly Elizabeth Gibbs. They'd watch out for him.

* * *

~ Continued ~


	7. Chapter 7

.

NCIS

The Carolina Connection Series

Book 2 Part 2

LIFE: GREECE

~ EPILOGUE ~

The nerves in Molly's spine slowly recovered and she gradually regained control of her legs. She was so relieved to have her mobility restored. The second bed was removed from Gibbs' room and a small sofa put in its place.

Gibbs' was making excellent progress in regaining his full speech capabilities, though Tony joked, "How will we know?" The only area that was still really difficult for him was learning to walk again. In the gym, he could manage a few steps if he could brace himself with his arms on the parallel support bars but seemed to be stuck at that point.

Sgt. Dawson was relentless in his efforts but even he was becoming frustrated with the lack of progress. Watching, as she did daily, Molly had an idea.

The following day, after Dawson had warmed up the muscles in Gibbs' legs and positioned his wheelchair at the beginning of the twenty-foot long path between the two bars, Gibbs scowled and sighed. He was really disgusted and angry at the prospect of not being able to return to his former athletic condition.

As Dawson raised him from the wheelchair and positioned his patient with a hand on each of the supports, the two looked up at the same time. There stood Molly at the far end, casually leaning against the side of one of the support bars.

Casually toying with the top button of her shirt, she began to very slowly - _very_ slowly - saunter towards Jethro, finally undoing that top button about halfway there. Then her hand moved just as s-l-o-w-l-y to the next button. The hubbub of noise in the gym began to drop to as every eye seemed to be locked on the scene unfolding before them.

Tony, who often came to lend an assist at Gibbs' rehab sessions, stood at the door, arms crossed over his chest, with a big grin on his face. MollyMac was doin' her thang!

By the time she reached Jethro who was still standing, holding onto the support bars, the room was silent and nothing existed in his world except the very sexy woman in front of him.

Molly's seductive smile that he had never seen outside of their home, almost made his knees buckle right by itself, but those small hands now exploring his chest...and now dropping lower to his waist...and now even a bit lower...Gibbs swallowed in almost a gulp. The loosened buttons of her shirt offered tantalizing, teasing glimpses of what only he knew lay just beyond his sight as she leaned in toward him slightly.

"Come on, Marine. You're gonna hafta work for it. Come get me. Come on." Her voice was soft and just as alluring as she herself was. Warm as honey, it drew him like a moth to a flame. He wasn't even aware that he was moving his legs, making one halting step after the other. As he took a step forward, she took a step backward, teasing him, challenging him, taunting him, seducing him - and he walked. With the aid of the sturdy handrails, true - but those legs were moving.

Three feet. Five feet. Ten feet. More. More. Until the sultry temptress vanished to be instantly replaced by an exuberant, laughing and jubilant Molly standing at the end of the twenty-foot course with her arms around his tall frame. Cheers, whistles and applause broke out among the other Marines and sailors who were working just as hard to overcome their own injuries and disabilities.

Dawson positioned the chair directly behind the shaking, exhausted Gibbs who all but collapsed into the seat. DiNozzo strolled up with that wide, beaming smile, and chortled, "You been fishin' with the wrong bait, Sarge!"

"I wouldn't even try to compete with that, DiNozzo!"

Molly's eyes, full of pride and brimming with tears, never left Jethro's face. "You did it, Gunny! You DID it!"

Sitting in the chair, his breath still a little ragged, his beautiful lop-sided smile appeared as he reached for her, pulling her down into his lap. He then proceeded to kiss her until he'd stolen even her breath away. Smiling against his lips, she murmured, "I got my Marine back."

It still took a while, but that was the break-through that Gibbs had needed. Slowly his lower-body strength increased, his steps became firmer and more sure, until at last came the day when Dawson signed him off and he was finally discharged from the hospital.

He'd still need to walk a lot, slowly building up strength to jog, getting himself back in the condition he had been in before he was poisoned but he had the perfect workout companion who was with him every step of the way.

It was good to finally have the whole group back in the office again. Tony felt as if it had been a lifetime since his team had been intact, and it felt really good to hear Morrow's door open or close and see Molly's expectant smile again as she looked up toward the catwalk.

Jonathan Cartwright was working out beautifully. He fit in with the team dynamics even better than Tony had hoped and he knew he had made the right decision in opening the fourth position to him. Having met Mr. Jenkins at the hospital, Jon was offered Molly's former apartment and he happily moved right in. It wasn't long before he and Sgt. Jenkins became fast friends, sharing cooking and meals whenever work permitted.

Director Morrow would stand at the railing of the catwalk, looking down on his agents in their various bullpens, glad to see his three primary teams working smoothly and in harmony. He grinned to himself and entered Gibbs' office for a cup of coffee.

* * *

Next

The Carolina Connection Series

continues with

Book 2 part 3

LIFE: VACATION


End file.
